The first thing she remembers is the taste of the wind. Ocean spray coated her moon dappled body and dragged at her weary hooves as the thrashed against the invisible currents below. Salt parched her tongue, causing it to swell in the confines of her mouth and threaten to sink her beneath the waves despite her legs trying to keep her afloat. ’Gods save me!’ she screams but even her voice is lost beneath the crashing weight of the water. Just when she is ready to give herself over to the will of the entities above, her hooves scrape over the sands dimpled by the sea. Never in her life has she felt so grateful as in that moment.
Entirely spent, she lets the tides draw her into the shallow waters along the shore, savoring the rough scrape of her knees across shells and rocks hidden beneath the waves. Glorious, even the sting of the salt in her wounds is glorious. A reminder that she is alive and what horror had drove her into the seas was far behind her.
Water drips in heavy droplets from the soaked tendrils of her charcoal mane as breathlessly she lifts herself into a sitting position and for the first time, finds her glacial eyes on the world around her. Somewhere, deep in her memory, she feels something is wrong. The air around her is far cooler than any that she has ever remembered and the sun, though a welcome familiarity, far less than what her hazed mind can register. There is no dry arid wind here, no blistering sands to scorch the untrained hooves. Beyond the reach of the ocean, thick foliage and bright greenery folds itself securely around the distant mountain peaks rising like great monoliths on the horizon. Though the thoughts are still muddled in her mind, she knows enough to realize that this is not her home.
A chill races along the contours of her spine as with a surge of anxious adrenaline, the mare of dappled moonlight rises on wobbling legs. Small, fluted ears tilt this way and that as the strange cries of birds and beasts ascend the cool zephyrs that twist and swirl about her slight frame like a desert serpent tempting her within reach of its fangs. Paper thin nostrils flare as Guinevere inhales the unfamiliar scents of fir and pine and sweet grasses beyond the reach of her pale eyes. Hunger and thirst growl like a wounded beast within her, driving her unsure steps closer to the shadow of the tall trees stretching out their skeletal branches towards her in welcome. ’Just a taste…. Just enough.’ she murmurs in her own ears. If she did not at the very least rinse the salt from her tongue and ease the growling of her belly then surely Nergal would come for her.
Flinching against the cool shadows as they drape over her body, the sterling mare proceeds cautiously over the well worn deer trail leading away from the open expanse of beach. Nervous as a doe facing down a stalking cat, Guinevere twists her head this way and that, searching the shadows beneath the trees for whatever danger might leap forward. And yet as finally the shadows break to reveal an open meadow filled with yellowing grasses, the anxiety begins to ease. The sight before her was like mana from the heavens and without much more caution or consideration, she drops her small muzzle to the earth and inhales the rich scents of grass. It was familiar and yet different but regardless to her, it was free of the taste of the ocean. Greedily, she rips mouthfuls of grass free and savors the little succulent waters that she could glean from them.
