Common

Laika stumbled from the choppy waves, blinking stinging seawater from their eyes. The blue roan's legs trembled as they dragged themselves ashore, threatening to fold underneath their weight and send them crumpling onto the rocky beach. Halfway to the meadows just beyond the shore, they seemed to accept this as inevitable, and slumped unceremoniously onto the sand.

They simply lay there for a while, hooves tucked against their body and head leaning against a sand dune. The sun was beginning to sink into the sea, and Laika was content to watch it, the evening light casting their surroundings in a rosy glow. Their stomach ached with indescribable hunger, as if its two sides could be touching with how empty it was--but how many days had they swum to get here, with nothing but barren rock and sunken ruins to act as miserable rest stops? Laika's muscles had given everything they had to give, and they were afraid that if they tried to stand up again, their legs would simply refuse. The sheer fatigue running through their veins seemed to drain away all will to get up and move, to go where they could finally graze. Laika was too tired even to feel much emotion--a relief, really, given the chaos from which they'd fled.

Flames. Smoke. Neverending coughs and tears, and an eternal red cast to the sky. They remembered all this with a dull ache in their heart, but so much of them hurt that what was one more pain, really? Only when violent shivers from the chill of evaporating seawater began to rack their form did the roan horse finally push themselves to their hooves, moving with an uncertain wobble to the meadow just beyond. There, Laika stared at the lush grass, mind seeming to come to a blank. Only when another fierce rumble squeezed their stomach did they finally lower their head, tearing away mouthfuls of grass.