She comes as strangers to the Islands often do - alone and exhausted from the swim. The rays of the summer sun reach down to her from high in the sky, sapping the wetness from her back with insatiable thirst. Majda walks along the sandy shore, curled ears swiveling to catch the sounds that glimpse now and then over the rush of the sea.
Voices.
For a moment a breath of hope sets the ember of her heart aglow, and she bounds from the sands and over a small rise that gives way to an expanse of mature grasses. She is surprised and confused not to see a herd of horses before her. There is a pause in her elegant stride as she searches for the source of the voices she had heard down by the shore. There are a few small gatherings in the distance. With a sharp snort she continues deeper into the belly of the meadow.
She does not know where she is - does not know the risk to her freedom that exists simply for stepping foot here. But there are other dangers that Majda has on her mind now. Though the sun is far from setting, the bay marwari mare isn’t sure she wants to spend her night alone.
m a j d a
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