Was I left behind?
Someone tell me, tell me I survived.
Perhaps it was foolish to be so forthcoming, but I am young and I have no tact. Harboring this secret, willingly keeping my intentions hidden, was beginning to be too much. It was festering inside of me. I could see it in this stranger's face, in his eyes. He was trying to figure me out, and I'm sure his curiosity and compassion would expire before too long. "I grew up on Luthien, born in the Prairie. I've never seen anything quite like Salem before." I sputtered, finally, after a long silence spanned between us. The gust of wind was too short, and too weak to howl or beat against our ear drums. As it passed, I wished it would return again. "I've seen very little of the islands. I live on the Crossing now."
The rambles kept coming. At least these weren't lies. I gulped hard, my vision falling to the sand at my feet. I felt the knotted tips of my tail wavering gently between my hocks. In an effort to defend myself, and to keep the conversation going, I deflected answering his question. I knew I couldn't do this for much longer. "Look I mean you no harm." I said, taking a short step forward, my heavy head held low, below my withers. My red lobes were pricked forward at attention. "I am from the Lagoon."
| Fresian Mutt | 15.3 | Chestnut | Evaline x Rook | Half-brother to Kasabian | Vinyl | Photo © kimerleecury |