Meadow

An unforgiving sea crashed down upon him in frothing, tyrannical waves. With each feverish kick and each desperate gasp, another would come crashing down, attempting to send him sinking to the blackened, grasping depths. Periodically, he would feel the tethers of something under the water clutching and clawing at him with a deep-rooted hunger. He had no time to feel fear -- even the burn of unforgiving saltwater stinging his eyes, nose, and throat. His muscles burned with each stroke. There was only pain, and an unnatural will to survive. He remembers feeling helpless, and at one point even accepting his fate...

Then, it all went black.

It’s morning, and all he can smell is the stink of the seaweed. It floods his nose, and every part of his body aches. Even taking a breath is painful, and he groans. Something touches him, and very suddenly, he’s startled awake. He scrambles to his hooves, which sink and the sand, and he staggers up the bank in a frenzy to finally have firm ground under his hoof... Or at least, something other than water. In his panic, to his great misfortune, the ankle of his hoof rolls with one unfortunate step and it twists. Down, he tumbles; his hooves and legs kick sand all about, and he finds his footing once more and continues to press forward with a staggered limp. Finally, he pulls himself to a point of the sand giving way to solid earth that didn’t shift so easily underfoot. His ears are perked and eyes wide, gasping with each breath.

Cortés does not realize that the startling touch had been a fibrous piece of seaweed that had brushed against his barrel. And he’s not about to ask any further questions about it, either. The sea had proven its point; it was no friend of his, or any creature, for that matter. And even so much as hearing the way, the waves crashed against the shoreline sent shocking waves of anxiety down his spine. Sand clings to his still-wet body, and the majority of his belly, groin, thighs, and back legs felt waterlogged, and sour to the touch. Then, of course, there’s the burning of each breath, the haziness of his gaze, and now? He had a limp.

‘Why is God so cruel?’ he asked himself.

His tail flicked behind himself, although the finely cropped tassels were mostly clumped together in thick knotted threads from their wetness and the sand that clings. He exhales a final sigh that he might be safe… for now. He turns his attention to the Meadow. Very quickly, it reminds him of home. His expression is puzzled, and he wonders if his experience from the previous night led to his death and if this was the afterlife. Or if it had all been a bad dream… But then… bad dreams didn’t lead to physical pain, not any he’d ever experienced, anyways... He had always been a sensitive colt before he blossomed into the rough and tough yearling his elderly mother had always hoped he would.

His ears flick back with uncertainty as a hunger pain rumbled in his gut. That’s when the realization that maybe he wasn’t dead seemed to sink in.. not to mention the vicious bite of the cold, which gave his still-wet coat an extra 'special' sort of chill. Especially since it appeared to be trimmed, as opposed to thick and scruffy to accommodate for the winter. His forelock was flattened against his face, with the majority of his mane buzzed off at his crest, leaving his neck fully, and exposed -- this was a very strange, yet handsome expression for the thickness of his neck.

Tentatively, he’d press inward to the Meadow. One part out of pain, mindful of each limped step he took, and partially because this land was strange to him. He knows not what looms within its trees and rocks, but he knows he’s not alone; for through the stink of the sea-stained breeze, he can pick up the traces of other horses. He sticks to the tree-line, near the thicket; although he sticks out like a sore thumb with his contrasting sabino that covered him nearly from head to toe against his golden coat, he feels as though he’d have a better opportunity to observe and be left to heal on the outskirts, as opposed to in the open. Not to mention, being allowed to scavenge for something to soothe the upset of his stomach.