Meadow

i'm not looking for salvation

the sky was starting to darken with the fresh bruises of an oncoming storm. the scent of impending rain clung heavy to the air, and the sloshing of the briny waves pushed and pulled her to the shore. she had been fighting the current for long enough that she was exhausted by the time her hooves finally touched sand. it showed in the lines of her face; fatigue had furrowed her brows and turned her blue eyes glassy.

she would have stayed at the edges of those hungry waves, trying desperately to pull her back in, if it wasn't for the alluring smell of succulent grasses just beyond her sight. it was the only thing that pushed her forward, though she was straining with every step. once she had reached the grassy knoll she dropped to her knees, sinking into the carpet of plush greenery. the storm still brewed overhead, but at least here she felt safe.

here, she could find a home.

"...speech"

yearling. ash. seal bay roan pintaloosa. sixteen hands.
of nowhere.