⬩ none ⬩
▻ none (x none) ◅
She does not know much her mother and brother toiled, blinking up blearily with dayflower colored eyes. She likes the sound of the first voice she hears, turning her little dark tipped muzzle towards the sound. The nudge that comes encourages her up and she wobbles this way and that - splatting her white tailed golden haunches into the sand again once or twice.
---
Her mother had called her Dayflower after the color of her eyes, but memory would not come commonly to the little girl whose mind could not perceive time in the way that all others around her could. She remembered all that had ever happened to her conscious form and yet could not determine the order in which the memories came. All things were ‘present’ at all times.
First impressions, therefore, were imperative. Kestrel and her mother Talya were central and unmoving fixtures in her mind. Forever checking on her and swirling about her.
Her bold star on her brow catches the sun as brilliantly as her foreleg and hair - the mane and tail so pristine with the washing in the oasis. The Pink Man had said they could stay there, wait for the man her mother sought. "KESTREL!" she bleats, suddenly forgetting that he had said he would be back shortly, skittering into the shallows of the main oasis they generally took rest beside.
No, no panicking. The sun. The sun was in the east when he had said he would be back at the sun's peak. She looks up, slowing her heart. Had it been for any other marker, she might have thought him gone forever -- a memory of her mother’s first disappearance making her tummy flutter uncomfortably. The mishmash of time makes her stamp her foot, as though her mother had only just done the vanishing that moment.
And then she beds down, trying to ground herself in the sand that fluttered between the oasis grasses.
OF THE LOST ISLAND WILDS
▻ zero years - spanish and arabian x - palomino, bay carrier - 14.3 hh ◅