I guess that's just the price I paid
for the blood red flags
that I walked past everyday

♡
Soraya dreamed lightly as she dozed, but she wouldn’t remember any of them when she awoke. Mostly they were memories, of washing up on the shore of the Savannah and being greeted by Bacardi’s sweet face. They were pleasant, quiet dreams.

Tavaris, too, dreamed. He had finished nursing and fallen asleep as his mother’s feet. His dreams didn’t have much in the way of shape or direction; mostly they were just colors, and sometimes images of the few things he knew: trees, grass, the sky, his mother. At one point he began to dream of a voice, which was unfamiliar too him. His mother had not spoken to him yet, but he did have hazy memories of her voice from within her belly. He knew what it felt like, more so than what it sounded like, but he could still understand that this voice was not hers. Curious, he slowly began to wake, and opened his eyes sleepily to see the newcomer.

Soraya had awoken as soon as she heard the soft footfalls of the yearling filly, but her concern for the stranger was brief and clouded with sleep. She had come quietly, non-threateningly, and Soraya’s only worry was for her own shyness. She blinked at Poem, but then smiled softly when the girl spoke. ”Thank you,” she said. ”His name is Tavaris, and I am Soraya. I don’t think I’ve met your mother; I haven’t been here very long.”

As they made their introductions, the familiar painted shape of Bacardi emerged from the trees, and Soraya uttered a happy nicker. He greeted Poem as well as he moved forward to join them, and Soraya stretched out her muzzle to brush against his. ”Come,” she said, ushering him close before ducking down to gently rouse the colt at her feet. He blinked up at her, already somewhat awake, and wobbled excitedly to his feet when she gave him a nudge. ”Tavaris, this is your father.”
♡

Soraya