The speckled onyx girl flicks her curled ears, uncertainty in every step she takes. The words of her father echo in her head.
"Silence, a girl should only be seen and not heard." "A girl can not sit on the throne." "It is not the way of our ancestors." His words still lay heavy across her heart, a burden, if it were not for her strong legs; would of surely drowned her in the sea. She freezes in her steps, her golden eyes scan the shoreline. Her lithe onxy form drips with sea water, it dribbles down her speckled sides and makes its return to the foaming surf.
A glance to the heavens would of warned her of the impending storm that brews and toils on the horizon. Her golden eyes shift beneath a thick veil of lashes. When she had fled her homeland, she had not known in which direction, just into the sea. Now she finds herself utterly alone, just herself and the burdens that she packed away.
She moves from the hardpacked sand to the grasses, she halts as she tops a grassy knoll. She can not believe the expanse of grass that stretch out before her, it goes as far as she can see. In the distance sharp craggy peaks reach toward the angry stormy couds, her breath catches in her throat. It is beautiful.
Home is nothing but endless seas of sand, only interrupted by the occasional oasis. Here there is an abundance of grass, trees, and other horses. Excitement vibrates her onyx skin, there were so many here. They wandered to and fro, some were paired while others were solitary. Her eyes settle on another, her coat splotched and speckled. Dalia steps closer, her delicate nostrils flaring as she catches the girls scent, it is much like her own, clean and salty.
"Hello," she says simply. "Are you new here too?" she asks as she tilts her crown.