Meadow

Raksha cannot say that she wasnt relieved when the haunting form of Aranck began to appear less and less often. Once more, father was gone, taking with him Skogsra and Sigurdr to only the gods know where. It was the first time that she began to feel the flickering flames of jealousy tugging at her heart. Of course she did not blame her sister. Skogsra had not even met father until that day he came to the Arch to take Siobhan’s place. When finally mother told her of her sire, the young filly had been enthralled in him, following like a meek lamb in the shadows of his hoofprints eager to know more about him. It was only fair that she would forget about playing games with her older sister or trailing after mother.

It did not take long for mother to be sold away. Never would she forget the fearsome sight of the great painted stallion as he charged over the ridge that marked the borders between the cove and the Arch. Nyimara had warned her that they were surrounded by enemies but it was not until that day that Raksha truly began to believe it. Helplessly she watched as Aranck was defeated and her newborn sister and mother are quickly whisked away. In secret she followed, lingering in the shadows of the tall pines as the raging screams of Nyimara echoed through the forests. Fear spikes through her body with each clacking of teeth or the dull thud of hooves as the raging stallion drove the duo away from the border that he had come. Confusion furrows her red brow as nervously she lingers on the shores, watching silently as the three figures disappear into the ocean surf.

Pale blue eyes follow their bobbing heads for the longest time, silently praying that her wishes would turn the figures around and once more she would feel the comfort of mother’s warm embrace. But it never comes. They disappear behind the rolling waves and beyond the reach of her keen eyes.

For a time longer she remained there on the pebbled shores, her long dusky tail flicking back and forth nervously as her gaze flitting between the dense forest and back to the sea. Nyimara had told her to stay with Aranck, but he was gone again and Raksha wasn't sure she wanted to stay with him in all honesty. There was something in his eyes that scared her, that made her feel as though she was staring into the eyes of a hungry wolf preparing to strike. Mother was her buffer, the one who constantly drew his gaze and relished in the attention he offered her, regardless of how harsh Raksha thought it to be. Perhaps she had always held onto the hope that somehow Bjorn would mend the broken bridges that separated their family… this time, this time Raksha did not have it in her to hope.

With a heavy sigh and a resolved stamp of her hooves, the red woman charges towards the ocean surf not daring to glance back for fear that Aranck would appear and force her to return. It wasn’t until her hooves found purchase in the malleable sands of the main island that a sigh of relief escaped her lips. Long dusky brown tendrils of her mane plaster along her sleek neck as she turns to gaze back over the rolling seas with which she had come. Tinuvel was their home. The home of her ancestors or so abba had told her again and again. Yet now, she feels differently about the island. There is no family there for her. Mother… mother and Warduna were here somewhere, atleast, that was the direction the tall stallion had led them. Father, Skogsra and Sig were gone back to only he knew where and she was, for the first time in her life, left truly alone.

Slowly she makes her way towards the meadow, hoping without truly believing it, that she might again run into Bjorn or even mother. Thick layers of fog from the early morning hours roll over the dew dampened grasses, causing her skin to shiver in the cool morning air. She stops now, the droplets of water still clinging to her mane finally irritating enough that she gives her body a quick, full shake to rid the majority of the water from her body. But it is not enough. Silver blue eyes search through the dense fog, her paper thin nostrils flaring as she searched through the mists for the faintest scents of someone familiar to her. Surely mother and Warduna passed through here? They must have right?

Movement from the corner of her eye catches her attention. Small ears perk forward eagerly as she lifts her finely dished head and takes an inquisitive step forward. Through the mist and fog, a flash of golden hues. Mother’s mane? Skogsra? Father? Was it the devil stallion again come to take her this time? Insecurity tightens the muscles beneath her skin as timidly her voice echoes the curious nicker that hung in her throat. ”Mother?” Dark lashes blink slowly as she tilts her head, searching. The closer she gets, the clearer the image becomes. Instead of the silver-haired woman or her ashen father, it is instead a stallion she has never seen before. Sheepishly she dips her head, a meek smile tugging her lips as she halts herself, not daring to move closer should he take her approach as offensive. ”I….Im.. sorry. I didn’t mean… I thought you were someone else.” she murmurs, silver blue eyes searching his own for some sign of acceptance. Had she fallen so far? So far that she would find herself eager to have the company of a stranger just to keep from being alone. Yes. But he need not know that. Maybe he could help her? Probably not but at least he did not seem nearly as fearsome as the tall painted stallion that had taken mother away.