Desert

This was it. She was going to do it this time. This time she would do it.

Or so she told herself over and over again as her slender legs moved with lithe grace over the rock and sand strewn earth beneath her. Small mahogany ears flicker back and forth amid the curling tendrils of her dark mane as teacup muzzle lifts with the resolve that wavered in her heart. For so long the desert had been her home. Her blood boiled with the hot sun that dampened the thin hairs beneath her mane. This had always been home. Day in and day out she watched with pride as father relentlessly pursued those that dared to interlope upon what had become so familiar to them all. She watched with little understanding as the mares of the herd that had at one time been scattered to the winds began to mend the wounds that had scored them all with Geneva's death and Vihaan's desertion. Mother did what she could to teach her daughter the ways of the desert and guarding a family. Day in and day out she listened to the black and white woman as she plodded along with far less enthusiasm as the others. Truthfully, she had been quite thrilled when Enoch began to trail after then and it did not take long for her to find excuses to avoid such patrols that Harlequin assured her were quite necessary. The reality of it was simply. Twinge was floundering.

For so long, there had been a part of her that wanted nothing to do with the world beyond the reaching ocean's grasp. So long, the unfamiliar scents that clung to her father's coat when he returned from far off adventures had been of little interest to her, and yet not, like a coyote pup beginning to explore beyond the sandy den, she found herself tempted. And she hated herself for it. What would Cain think? She, like the others of the herd, had not missed the hurt in his eyes when Vihaan choose to abandon them for her father's home. She swore to herself she would never cause such pain or shame in his eyes and yet she wanted to see the world beyond the desert of sand and rock. Was there a world where green grasses flourished and water ran cold even on the hottest of summer days? Was there a place where the trees branched out like tall mountains over her head as mother once described of her own homeland? She was not sure she believed in love, for mother herself doubted such emotions but were the possibilities real? Was it tangible or merely a fantasy in the eyes of a foolish girl? Mother always seemed to know what she was thinking whenever Twinge happened to stare too long in the distance. Again and again Harlequin would simply nudge her shoulder and tell her when the time was right she would know it but that only ever seemed to cause the painted girl more questions than answers. When? When would she know? When would she be ready? When was a good time? When?

A heavy sigh escaped her lips as dark eyes settle upon the familiar broad form of Cain grazing peacefully near the shores of the shallow river that ran lazily through their desert home. Like a small girl her ears fold backwards and she prances to his side to bury her small muzzle beneath the comforting warmth of his black and white mane. Deeply she inhales his familiar scent, leaning against the muscular curve of his shoulder and flicking her tail slowly. "I've been thinking.... daddy.." she begins, drawing to his side to nibble at the lengthy whiskers along his muzzle as she used to do when she was merely a foal. "I think I am ready to see the other islands... I think." she murmurs, her gaze searching his own.