The green of the world beyond their desert home had made them queasy and chilled. They sought the sun, chasing it down until they had reached a sea amid all those who grew fat and lazy and eased by the lack of effort it took to live. The Stars of Mira were determined to find the heat of Ra, to soak in the sweltering fires of his embrace. Each were but twinkling flickers amid the vast time and universe, bearing nothing but the wind in their lungs and desert heat in their hearts.
The eldest of their number comes ashore first, the steadiest and most enduring, his mane the color of blood, rich and thick on a neck of dappled lily-petal hide. Across his breast between hoof and crest was the mark of Menhit, bloodthirsty sister and vicious claws of Sekhmet. The mark of Sekhmets own crown also enriched his face, just as the mark of Menhit graced his breast. He bursts from the water, legs reaching into the sand with firmer purchase than one without a life among deserts could boast. He shakes, eyes attentive, heart racing with the burden of water against wind-taught and sand-tested legs. Never had the wind fought so against him - nor had even sand been so cruel - to seem so calm and innocent and be hiding contrariness within. He looks over his back for the other three, sparing a disdainful look for the sea itself.
The second eldest, shortest of their number with a face so open as though he bore no secrets, was behind him within two lengths, coming ashore and looking like the cosmos made flesh. He is as well painted as his marked brother, though far darker of hide despite the splashes of white. An unusual color, a throwback to three grandsires prior, he shudders free of the wet - fetlocks lapped by the waves he had yet to leave. He has less stamina than his elder brother, but it is still a great deal more than usual horses born without the desert to try them.
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