zaia

The stallion learns quickly —not that sliding is difficult to understand— and Zaia laughs as he slides down the dune. She is pleased that he has joined her in her play, and happy that he ascends the dune on his hard, strong legs to give it a second go. Her heart flutters to watch him move and she can’t keep the giddy grin off her face. This is the most fun she has had in months.

When the dark and handsome stallion springs away from the dune and falls instead of executing the graceful dismount she was expecting, the small mare snorts with laughter. To see him kicking at the air, as carefree as a colt, only doubles her amusement. Zaia is still laughing when the stallion gets back on his feet and comes to trot in wide circles around her. “I’m sure it’ll be much the same,” she said as her mirth subsides. The ache in her hindquarters isn’t strong but it’s still enough to be annoying, and she shakes out her body to dislodge more sand.

“I’d rather go see the ocean again and clean some of this grit off of me. I feel ancient— every time I move a cloud of dust comes off me!” She jigs in place to prove her point and snorts. She is tired of the endless stretches of sand and the unrelenting heat of the sun. The red dun wants to hear the ocean and smell the surf and remind herself of all the adventures she has yet to have. Zaia trots forward, intent on her destination. It is up to the stallion if he wants to follow her or not, but she doesn’t look back to see if he does.