sable
She was a creature of habit and routine, a mare who got the most satisfaction from knowing what to expect on a day-to-day basis. Familiarity made her feel safe, even when she was perfectly aware it was all an illusion. Yet here she was, looking out over the open ocean in all its mystery and preparing to throw it all away again. It was strange and terrifying, but also thrilling: the buzz she got from being in open water, not knowing what she would find as soon as she arrived on land, was like nothing she'd ever experienced before. It was almost equal parts anxiety and wonder, and it made her question whether she was truly a creature of habit at all. It made her wonder if, perhaps, that was just what she'd told herself in the past, in order to justify what she and her family had gone through.
For, in truth, she had not truly been a creature of habit since she was about six months old. Most of her short life she had spent on the move, constantly travelling, even hiding in the shadows when necessary. Sable's memories of her adolescence were ones of longing and loneliness; she had woken up every morning already tired of the day's journey that was to come, and at night she had dreamed of faces that once she had hated, faces that - once twisted and cruel - now seemed soft and misunderstood. Oh, what she once would have given to return to that awful place. Now, of course, she knew how misled and naive she'd been. In short, she had done some growing up.
Perhaps it was her imagination, but she thought she could feel the water growing warmer as she swam. Where once it had felt like daggers of ice pricking her all over, now it seemed lukewarm: almost pleasantly so. She shut her eyes and kept pedalling, driven by the hope that a promised land lay ahead. Perhaps winter would not have touched it, as the ocean foreshadowed; for, while Sable loved snow, on the whole she preferred warmth to the cold. Perhaps she would see strange, exotic animals, or taste things she had never tasted before. Perhaps she would even meet a cute young stallion, tall and pale with blue eyes and stripes and a wide smile and a charming islander accent... Wait, am I thinking of somebody I already know?
Like a miracle, it was just as she'd hoped. She could already feel the sweltering sun warming her back as she climbed out of the sea, dripping onto a beach of fine golden sand. A vast forest of towering trees, twisting vines, and beds of huge flowers lay before her, ripe with song and smells and life. Everything was so surreal. Sable could only stare up at the canopies, helpess with fascination; she also trembled, half with exhaustion from her swim, and half with shock at being faced with a place so unlike anywhere she'd ever been before. Even the air felt different, almost cloying on her skin (though not in an unpleasant way).
The young mare drew in a long, deep breath, preparing herself for the ominous First Step into the trees.
{15'2 smoky seal brown mutt}
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