scylla -----
by anawar out of daenerys
She’d thought Encantador was cracked, but his instincts are apparently better honed than hers. Scylla had felt the ground rumbling beneath her for some time, but only when her new acquaintance had become quite skittish and told her to come to the Desert to continue their conversation did she really understand: something sinister had been at play.
Mere hours after that run-in with the dunskin stallion, deep fissures had appeared in the limestone; Scylla hadn’t had time to do anything but follow her gut reaction – she had dived straight into the salty channel separating Cimarron and Salem. Although she had never been to the desert island, she’d passed it on her way to Atlantis during her brief visits to her father, so she knew which way to go.
She’d washed up on the sandy shoreline several days ago and had rode out the continued aftershocks, dodged the strong, angry waves that had crashed one after another on the beach. Scylla doubts that Encantador has forgotten about her, and now that everything has calmed down (she can still feel slight tremors under her hooves, though the sand dampens them), she has begun the trek into the Desert proper.
It’s a strange place, this land of sand. She’s always understood the meaning of desert but she’d never imagined such an expansive place. It’s bland yet rich, calm yet dangerous; she’s not entirely sure what to make of it. It’s quite hot, obviously, though during the peak of summer it must be absolutely brutal. She wouldn’t know where to begin searching for Encantador - and she isn’t about to announce her presence to the whole territory - so she sets out at a leisurely walk.
There is a sudden call on the wind but it isn’t directed at her. Scylla knows that voice, however; it’s the only voice that had kept her sane during those long months of Dorian’s insisted lockdown. After not having seen her mother for so long up to Cimarron’s demise, the sound is a salve to Scylla’s battered heart. She snorts, a feeling of great relief welling up in her eyes and threatening to escape through tears.
Seeing the black and white figure up on a sandy ridge, so familiar, so similar in appearance, makes Scylla’s heart ache and she immediately charges forward, wanting to reach Dany as quickly as possible. She wants until she’s much closer before she yells, ”Mother!” She races up the dune while her cry is still on the air and skids to a halt in front of her dam, deliriously happy to the point of speechlessness. All she can do is stand there, her eyes wide and shocked.
Eventually she musters a small voice that she hears herself use as she asks, ”Where have you been?”
three - black tobiano - mixed - 15hh |