zaia

The storm from last night has passed and the sun shines once more, making the sand beneath Zaia’s hooves glitter. She stands in the ocean, angled downward on the slope of the receding shore as waves lap at her chest. Her hips are dry. Every so often she drops her nose into the salty water that rushes up over her skin and raises it, dripping, to stare out at the horizon.

Last time she was at the ocean, the grullo stallion had been with her and they had spent the rest of the afternoon sliding down dunes and rinsing off in the waves. Today she has come to the water alone. Despite her restlessness, evident in her constantly shifting ears and the longing gaze she focuses on the distance, Zaia stands still in the water. Her barrel bobs in the current and occasionally she shifts her hind feet to keep her balance. For the most part the mare does not move on her own.

What she wants is to strike out and swim. The grullo stallion is attractive, and good enough company, but he is also the only company, and Zaia is growing bored. Day by day her yearning for adventure grows, and she thinks to herself as she dips her nose to the waves once more that maybe soon she will go explore another island across the ocean and see what the territories there can offer her.