Fjö∂ur followed the as of yet nameless bay mare into the formidable landscape. Never would she have thought in her wildest nightmares that she would end up in such an unforgiving place. As her hooves shuffled through the loose sand, it leapt up to cling to her wet limbs. She could feel it burrowing into her shaggy fetlocks and setting her skin to itching. The tiny golden grains were everywhere; they even swept into her nostrils as she ducked her head against the occasional wind. Her ears flicked back in annoyance again and remained in this position as the odd pair ventured further in between the mounds of sand.
By the time the bay stopped, Fjö∂ur was sweatier than she had been after her sprint down the beach. A white froth lingered in the crevices of her elbows and where her hind legs chafed together. Still, her breathing had remained steady and even thanks to the deliberate pace they had kept. She glanced up at Bhaskara, almost gratefully, as she too ceased her pace for a moment. The painted mare wouldn’t want to stay here too long, but she would not refuse a short break.
Fjö∂ur looked around curiously as the rest of the islands were described. She could now only see the endless golden dunes; the ocean was far behind them. A feeling of claustrophobia was beginning to creep into her abdomen. She and Þoka came from a rugged landscape, but it was still open. There had been grass, and streams, and beauty. Here was just…terrible. There was no water, and no Þoka. Fjö∂ur hung her head. She was starting to think she would never find the blue roan mare. Tears began to prickle in her eyes. She snorted and stomped a small hoof into the sand, refusing to show weakness.
“After we get to the water, I would like you to show me how to get to this common island.” Her voice was firm, but not quite as harsh as it had been initially. To further appease her current company, she added in a somewhat softer tone, “Please.” At last she gazed back up at the curly-eared mare, tossing her forelock out of her face so she could make eye contact – her hazel meeting the bay’s brown. “What is your name?”
FJÖÐUR
mare . icelandic horse . seven . silver black tobiano . 13 hh |