†
Temblor strolls the beach, well out of reach of the low tide and grateful for this brief respite from the incessant rains that allow Atlantis to flourish. He's in pursuit of a scent, faint but familiar, and soon enough he comes across Bathsheba looking out to sea. A glance shows the dark shape of her daughter bobbing further toward the horizon. He strolls up to join the mare left behind on Paradise's shores. "Hello again," he greets her mildly. Almost a year earlier he'd come across the pair, only for them to disappear into the jungle without a word. At the time he'd dismissed the encounter, assuming the pair had just been passing through. Evidently he'd been wrong.
For a time he says nothing, simply keeps watch with the mare as her daughter dwindles from sight, hidden from them both by distance and the waves. He'd never had to watch his children swim away from him. His sons and daughters had gone overland, but never very far: the herds that shared the plains had often mingled. It had been a tight-knit group despite its natural conflicts and quarrels. And, in the end, Temblor had been the one to leave. He hadn't looked back. Now he wonders, did any of his kin watch him go?
He sets his loss aside, tips one ear toward the boldly patterned mare. "Parting can be difficult," Temblor observes quietly. The wind blowing off the water is warm and teases the ends of his mane. He longs abruptly for the clean cool air of anywhere but this stagnant, humid island. What had seemed a veritable paradise from offshore has proven to be little to his liking at all. Patience, he counsels himself. "I didn't get your name, before."
TEMBLOR
& swallows you whole
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