Meadow

'Dont dawdle... find me when you make the islands.' Like a broken record playing over and over again his baritone words ring in the back of her mind even now, long after she had last watched his massive form disappear amid the waves of the unforgiving sea. He expected her to follow, and like the good little daughter she had bowed her head in agreement. He had not seen the glimmer in her dark eyes as his form vanished beyond the rolling waves. He had not seen the proud lift of her head and the snap of her ears as they buried themselves beneath the thick mantle of her creamy white mane. He was her sire, and she had observed his force and been on the receiving end on more than one occasion to know that he meant business when he spoke a command... but he was gone.

For a time she had enjoyed the time she had alone on the mainlands. She buried her mother's rotting corpse, spent a few days tending to the neatly piled stones and upturned earth but she knew that without the pale mare or her sire, she was alone. For a time she remained there where the sands meet the ocean surf, watched as the waves rolled over the fine granules and pondered the outcome of her future. Should she remain defiant, she knew that father would track her down, he would not rest until he had collected all his little playing pieces to his side. Sure for a time she might be able to avoid him, she half hoped that his life on the islands would overwhelm him and make him forget... but she was not foolish enough to put any faith behind this.

After a final farewell to mother's grave, Nyimara had come. Ever the obedient daughter. The swim was difficult, even for her who had cherished the occasional swim through the lake's shallow waters with her mother. The ocean was much more unforgiving. Wave after rolling wave threatened to submerge her, hidden currents tugged hungrily at her hooves. She fought it, determination flaring in her dark eyes; the ocean would not win. Relief floods here as the first of the islands come into view, this one, by far larger than the rest. As she emerges from the shallow surf she pauses long enough on the shore to give her dappled red coat a shake before allowing her senses to lead her deeper into the island. Twin sonars prick amid the darkened tangle of her water logged mane as cautious step after cautious step she follows the scent of fresh water and grass to a quaint looking little meadow near the center of the island. Paper thin nostrils flare as the inhaled the sweet scents of the landscape around her, dark eyes taking in the scene. Here and there, a few equines gathered, lost in some deep meaningful conversation or another. For a moment, she let her gaze linger upon them, wondering what it must be like, having conversation worth while, or even if they knew what a true conversation was. She thought about interrupting a nearby pair, inquiring if any of them had met the old wolf or knew where he had taken up residence... but well, she was not quite ready just yet to find that answer. Not yet.