She doesn't remember. Not the moment her body sank into the cold, frigid water. Not the scrambling for just a single breath of air. She can remember the feeling of the sickening thud as her head bounced off of the rocks. She can remember cursing her gods inwardly as the ocean enveloped her.

Her throat aches, as she sputters to the surface. Her nostrils suck in every breath that she can possibly inhale. Her muscles scream in protest as she strikes out. She desperately searches the horizon for any sign of land. Her eye strains, but all she can see is the wide expanse of ocean. Fear creeps into her belly, it is hot, and it plagues her with every second it remains. With each stroke she leaves behind them they had been some sort of family. They had been there when she needed them the most, but betrayl was a bitter taste on the tongue.

Time slid by, almost unnoticed by Ana, but she did notice. She notices the clouds floating over head, they were fluffy, they were happy. She scoffs at them. Her mouth parts and she curses them. "Damn you and your happiness!" She hisses. A seagull cries above her head, he laughs at her just like the clouds. She laces her ears into her dark mane. Ana glares up at them for their persistent squawking. She struggles against the waves, her strength wains.

"Swim Ana, we must survive." It whispers into her ear. It haunts her. She grunts, willing her tired legs to strike out in a feeble attempt. The ocean tugs at her, she can feel it pulling her off course. She does not protest. "It takes us. She always knows the way." It whispers. It was almost soothing to Ana's ears. She closes her eyes, giving into the pull of the ocean. She can feel her hooves scrape off of rocks. Her eyes immediately pop open. She stares at the land that looms before her. The pine trees abruptly jut from the rocky shore, snowcapped mountains scrape the cloudy skies, and fresh mountain streams enter the salty ocean.

She struggles from the ocean. Her hooves bounce off of rocks that cover the beach, some causing her to stumble. She limps on her right fore with each stride, an old injury that chose to rear its ugly head today. Crusty blood outlines the gouge above her right eye. What a sight she must be? A crippled, 16 hand tall, 1 eared, 1 eyed woman. A smirk touches her lips. She could tell by the smell on the breeze that this land was inhabited... the stench was enough to gag her.