zaia

Zaia picks her away across the sand on nimble hooves and heads up the side of a rather large dune. The sun is hot on her back but she has come to enjoy the heat. It also almost never rains here, and to the Kiger mustang there is no better version of paradise than this. She is warm and the dunes keep her entertained. The only other thing she could ask for is company, and next time she sees the dark and handsome stallion Zaia intends to tell him to go get her some.

It did not occur to her until after they parted ways that neither horse had given the other a name. Zaia exerts more force to pull herself up the sand dune and has to stifle a laugh. This is not the first time she has thought of it, and it amuses her each time that their conversation went from ‘is anyone else here?’ to the stallion’s unique nose and then to where they came from. She reaches the top of the dune and stands with her hooves sunk deep in the soft sand as she looks out over the territory. She sees the lines of the wind’s passage across the surface of the earth, the dark smear of ocean on the horizon. In her nose is the faint scent of water and although sweat patches her withers, the young mare is not thirsty.

Her focus today is on fun and, well hydrated with a belly full of shrubs and grass, Zaia flicks her tail before stepping down the other side of the dune. She has planned this since the sun rose this morning and she is eager to see if it works. She leans her weight back on her hind legs and locks her knees. Her body stops, but soon the sand beneath her shifts and she slides forward. The mare throws her head back and releases a long, high whinny as she slides down the fat dune, her hindquarters so low she is almost sitting.

The mare reaches the bottom of the dune in a small spray of sand and launches herself into a trot as soon as she feels the ground level out beneath her hooves. Her tail is gritty and full of tiny particles but she doesn’t care, and with a satisfied snort Zaia turns around to study the face of the dune. There is a long pair of uneven but parallel lines that mark her slide, and she grins. She slaps her tail against her hindquarters and winces as sand peppers her hip, but she does not hesitate to stride up the large dune’s surface next to her sliding tracks. It’s too fun not to do it again.