Sunset casts a warm golden glow over the soft, pale sands on the beach of Atlantis. The dimming light has made the local birds more vocal, not less, and Shararat’s heart gives a little squeeze in her chest to hear this nostalgic chorus. There are too few critters in the deserts and dunes of Salem, save for the scaled and those who sing only in a hiss, and Shararat has missed the jungle’s cacophony. There is so much more to see and smell and experience here than in the barren sands of where she makes her home now. Perhaps Ak Burun will not be opposed to settling elsewhere— perhaps that is why the Akhal-Teke wanders for so long, to get a good bearing on what the other islands have to offer while Shararat is safe and comfortable in a land that offers no surprises.
She tosses her refined head and steps lightly away from the beach, keeping the thick jungle at her right shoulder as she ventures into the broad, hilly plains of a new territory. Atlantis being on the way back to Salem, she had no trouble justifying to herself a quick trip here to the Ridge to visit her gold-skinned kin. She might even make a jaunt to her place of birth just to see how Paradise is getting on. For now, she heads for the high cliffs that overlook the neighboring territories. The Badlands have left her longing for the familiar views of her home and the exciting landscapes of Atlantis. She is so bored of flat desert land and a world all of sand. She didn’t like it when she followed the red mare to her war-torn home, and she doesn’t care for its desolate, thirsty existence here on the islands.
Shararat keeps her head up and ears mobile as she trots across a rugged field skirting a long mountain range. She’s never been to this end of the territory before. Uneven hills and rocky terrain challenge where she puts her feet, while the ground to her left slopes sharply upward to the peaks. No doubt the view from that height is superior to the one offered atop the cliffs she heads toward, but Shararat is on a mission and doesn’t linger to attempt the mountain’s challenge— not today. Awaiting her are the sheer cliffs that drop into the backend of Paradise, a favorite stomping ground of Ailill and hers when Shararat was a filly. She recalls that the trails leading up (or down, from this direction) were risky but passable for anyone up to the task. Her dark eyes scan the craggy horizon as she travels, searching for the familiar form of Ailill. She wants to see her birthhome again, and she wants to spend a little time with someone who knows her and cares to continue knowing her, but at this point Shararat is eager for any and all company. She has been in her own company for far too long. |