zaia

The stallion’s approach is covered by the sound of the ocean, and Zaia does not hear him until he has already splashed through the water to stand beside her. She doesn’t mind his closeness, or his company— it’s just that she’s been yearning for something more lately. She is frustrated with herself, not for being discontent, but for not doing anything about it. She decides that must be the problem. When she first arrived on the islands, she did what she wanted and when she wanted to. Now she worries about abandoning the handsome stallion to life alone among the Dunes. Zaia knows she is his only companion, really, and she understands how soul-sucking a lack of company can be.

His question makes her smile, but the expression doesn’t quite reach her eyes because she is too distracted by the horizon. “I hate rain. And storms,” she says. “I don’t even like being wet most of the time. I guess today I was feeling like something different.” Her words are an unconscious echo of her thoughts. She shakes her head, much as the Sorraia did a moment ago, and giggles. An idea occurs to her, one that is genius, and she congratulates herself internally for her problem-solving skills as she tilts her head toward the stallion and brushes one ear and her forehead against the side of his neck. The Kiger Mustang looks up at him with one shining dark eye beneath his jawbone.

“Do you know what we should do?” she asks, and can’t keep the grin from her voice. It is a rhetorical question, one she answers herself a heartbeat later. “We should go for a long, long swim and see where the water takes us, and see who it takes us to.” Adventure— new lands, new territories, new horses. Zaia is always ready to meet new horses. If she takes the stallion with her, he won’t be alone in the Dunes if (when) she eventually leaves. As far as Zaia is concerned, there are no flaws in her plan.