Meadow

part of her is disgusted by how pathetic she feels, the brave, boyish, strong, part who was once embarrassed to cry in front of her own mother. the other part wants to curl deeper into the ground, to die of the heartbreak that chokes her. but it is not in her to give up…she would have ceased looking for the islands, for her family, long ago if quit was in her vocabulary. instead she shakes her head, angry with herself for being this weak. she needs to make some sort of plan, or she needs to move on. the faint scents in the desert were not enough to follow, not enough to carry hope that she might find the beings that left them. she can’t be sure anyway that they were as familiar as they were in the moment. after all it had been almost three years since she would have taken in a breath of hot desert air pleasant with the comforting smells of her family. her senses could have been playing tricks on her. she doubts this though, closing her dark eyes and journeying back into her memories, knowing that the smell of her home is just as fresh in her memory as the pain of losing her mother.

though the scent in the desert had not been fake, she really had missed her sisters by weeks, a month maybe, her eyes however do fail her. when she opens them, bleary with unshed tears and frustration, she gasps to see a black and white figure before her. she staggers to her hooves before taking a breath, a half exclamation dying on her lips. mother? but she can’t take it back fast enough when she blinks and her eyes clear. she knows at once that it is not arcana who approaches. how could she be so foolish... to think she had made it all this way, almost gave up, and then her mother would just waltz upon her here? if she was as smart as she thought she would have given up on fairytales a long time ago. she clears her voice before speaking again, to answer the kind stranger.

sorry…for a second you looked like…someone else. she mumbles half-heartedly, feeling even more wretched for having let her mind trick her so easily. she wobbles unsteadily for a second, her head spinning from getting to her feet so fast, the toll of malnourishment and exhaustion playing on her weary body. her bay coat has faded to a scrubby pathetic brown, her mane and tail so travel weary they resemble black straw. her eyes however, have cleared finally and she no longer blinks away the tears now that she is in front of a stranger. at least, she is strong enough for this. her voice is as brave as she can muster when she replies. i’ll be okay…just had a tough go of things lately.

it sounds more stoic than she means but in reality she has never really had things easy when she thinks back…always scraping along by herself, always yearning for that which she couldn’t find. and now she has really reached the epitome of low. the black and white stranger had probably thought she was on deaths doorstep or something. not just throwing a pity party by herself in the meadow

mare : 3 : bay : mutt : 15.2 : orhan x arcana : kafkaesque l a n d k e k s s t o c k@ d e v i a n t a r t