The Lost Islands
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Use caution when the wolf comes knocking;
Posted on March 23, 2020 at 11:20:44 AM by Rougaru



Liland.

Though Zjeena was home that damned bastard still haunted the jungle. He heard his name in her nightmare cries. He feels the bastard in the tension of her skin, the sorrow that clouded her eyes. Liland had long been a festering wound in his side and now, now the thorn must be pricked.

He remembers his promise, remembers the heaviness with which Zjeena had agreed to the outlandish demands of the Bay stallion. He should have stopped them. Now he cannot help but to kick himself. Of course hindsight is 20/20 and were he able to go back he would have fought tooth and nail to keep her from agreeing but now there is nothing that can be done.

Still it plagues him.

Sand sprays before dragging hooves as Rougaru forces himself down the familiar winding paths. He had seen one of Bjorn's mares not two moons before. She warned him of intruders, marauders in the night and though he was always vigilant Rougaru had made a point of increasing his guard. He was not about to lose someone else he loved. Not to anyone. Reviving the broken Zjeena was enough to deter him from ever having it happen to any other under his care.

The billowing zephyrs rise around him, lifting the thick locks of cream and caramel that hung heavily along his muscular neck. There. Nostrils quiver as an unfamiliar scent lingers, growing stronger and stronger with each step he took.

Immediately all thoughts of Zjeena and his pending tribulations disappear. It would not happen again.

Muscles tense as pace quickens, chocolate colored neck arches as he leaps clear of the jungles protective borders and onto the white sand beach. It does not take him long to find her. Multifaceted eyes of emerald hues transfix upon the painted buckskin mare that limped with clear exhaustion, lingering near the depths of the green jungle. Even from this distance he can see the tension in her skin, the stiffness in which she moved as though every muscle in her body was ready to flee into the depths of shadows that he called home.

For a moment he is still, the bright sunlight warm upon his coffee colored skin. Nostrils flare as he lifts his muzzle, whickering a greeting in deep throated tones. Despite the layers of dried blood, muck and mire that clung to her gold and white skin in smears, there is a faint recognition. Like a flash of a memory he sees her, moving with ease through red sands her eyes bright and gait fluid. Vaguely he recalls her in the turmoil of Luthien but for the life of him he cannot remember her. She was not one of Warsaw's mares, he would have recognized her. She could be one of Bjorn's perhaps but then why would she be fleeing from the Ridge instead of moving towards it.

"You are lost no?" he inquires taking a single cautious step towards her, ears alert amid the tangle of windswept forelock. A cautious smile tugs the corners of his ashen lips upward. "Not many strangers come here unannounced."




Rougaru
silver bay | stallion | 7yrs | 16.3 hh | mutt


photo by vantid @ tumblr



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