The Lost Islands
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and I'm yours


you never need me to be more than who I am, if I am yours
——————————

“We’ll go back home soon,” the younger of the two sisters, Marisol, assured her companion.

The mare she stood with snorted and offered a roll of her eyes in return.

“Don’t be that way, Nieve.” Marisol chided.

“Be what way, Marisol?” Naive asked, dark eyes finding the pale form of her sister and locking on. Since they had been uprooted from the Cove and shuffled across the border into the Arch, Nieve had a somewhat sour outlook on life. Marisol was far more patient, believing their father would push the desert woman out of their home and back to Salem, they would return to the Cove and life would go back to normal. Underneath that belief was the fear that it wasn’t true, but so long as she refused to acknowledge it, it couldn’t bother her and wouldn’t come to fruition.

Yet Nieve, who she spent most of her time with since their displacement into the Arch, was making it hard for Marisol to pretend everything was going to be okay by constantly being in such a bad mood. “Just don’t be so negative all the time,” Marisol said, exasperation stretching her tone.

Nieve snorted. “Yeah, whatever.” Then turned to dig somewhat at the snow in front of her. Winter was just around the corner and Tinuvel always embraced the snow early. Both girls had been born and grown up on this island, though, never once leaving it. Their coats were healthy and thick, and they knew where to forage for food even as snow fell and vegetation became somewhat scarce.

Just as Nieve reached to snag the slightly wet, yellowed grass she’d dug up, Marisol heard a noise in the forest off to their left. Her head shot upright, ears forward, as she made a hard, rough snort with surprise. Whoever (or whatever) it was stood where the wind carried their scent away from Marisol, leaving her completely clueless. She also understood that meant that as the cool breeze slightly tugged the ends of her red hair, it carried her scent and her sister’s into the woods for the stranger to study. There had been absolutely no sign of danger thus far in the Arch, but Marisol shivered anyways.

Nieve chewed slowly and lifted her head, but appeared far less concerned and scared than her slightly younger sister. She only blew a sigh and shook out her head, letting her dark hair fall down her blaze-striped face and over her neck. “Who’s over there?” She called out boldly and loud, flicking her ears curiously to catch their answer.
de nieve of the cove
solomon x maia. sooty grullo tobiano. Ee aa Dd nT nSty.
mutt. 15.2hh. 4 year-old mare


marisol of the cove
solomon x maia. sooty classic cream champagne dun tobiano .
Ee aa nCr Dd nCh nSty nT. mutt. 16.1hh. 3 year-old mare


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