Are you kidding me. The islands cropping up in the distance were decidedly not the islands she was swimming towards, but at this point did it even matter? You burn enough bridges, you end up swimming the channel--and this wasn't the first trek she'd made. She was done moving and done running, for once not due to her own stubbornness but pure exhaustion and nihilism. Lourdes had been the common denominator in enough bad situations that she knew she was the problem. With her bad attitude, stubborn nature, and, frankly, deep hatred for herself. At this point she just wanted a warm bed and something to eat. Anything else that happened to her, happened.
Objectively she knew the gods didn't drop an island between her and home just to piss her off, but boy did it feel that way as the petite grey mare waded through the shallows, not bothering to even take a sniff of the air to discern where predators lay in wait. Her appearance betrayed her attitude: her thick black mane lay dreaded against an under-muscled neck and her coat wore the dullness of neglect. Once, what felt like many years ago, she took pride in her appearance, to an excessive degree sometimes. She was barely five and felt like lifetimes lived in that dull coat of hers. Lifetimes, with a different mare having lived each one.
This was just a new life, a new timeline, a new reality, that she could just barely hope was kinder than the last ones. But she didn't expect it to be. All Lourdes could hope was that this might be the last place she ever had to arrive to. Exhausted from travel (something she hated to begin with), she hoped she'd simply die on this island before she had to evacuate it due to another conflict that was ultimately her own fault.
So, lacking any urgency or interest, she pulled herself out of the water and crossed the beach, not even taking a look back as the bright glow of the setting sun hit the water. No, she simply walked straight into the green until she found a creek where she took a deep drink. Without lifting her head, she pivoted to graze, knotted tail completely still as the night's flies landed on her thin damp body. Let them take her--at least she'd be contributing something useful. |