The moonwashed mare is silent. Lost deep in her own thoughts, she follows the bloodmarked stallion cautiously back into the calm seas. The sting of winter is fierce here, its grasp extending to the usually cool oceans. Though she did not complain or dare to comment, she is certain that the waters have turned even more frigid since she left them only hours past. Antares seemed like an honest enough soul and yet despite her agreement to follow him, still that shadow of doubt hangs over her head like a gray cloud pregnant with rain. Any moment she expects to find their destination something far different than the hot sands of a desert he promised.
It does not take long for her to find that such doubts are unfounded. Mentally, she repremands herself for thinking so poorly of a kind stranger. Pale silver eyes focus on the distant hills of red and gold that rise like a beacon above the ocean waves. Despite the numbing cold that weighs down her slender legs, the very sight is enough to renew the energy that dwindled within her. She does not bother to lag behind Antares like a meek lamb, but instead rushes towards the island. Only when her small hooves feel the malleable sands beneath her does she slow her pace enough to exhale a long breath. Salem. that was the name he called the island by and yet Guinevere knows it as nothing except her savior, the anchor to her sanity. Dark lashes blink slowly as she turns her gaze up and down the beachscape before her, feeling exhilaration instead of the fear she had felt when her hooves first touched down upon the main island. A single raven tipped dial tilts backwards, following the sounds of the red maned stallion as he too joined her in the shallow waters. He offers her a gentle smile and nods before continuing on. This time, the silver dappled mare plays the part of gentle lamb and allows him to lead her to his herd.
Though her words seem to escape her, Antares fills the silence with wisdom of his own, explaining the dynamics however briefly with the current queen and even pointing out here and there along the way of places to graze and known watering holes. Guinevere offers him a gentle smile and nods her head in acknowledgement but deep down, she knows that the only way to really understand these Dunes is to explore them herself. But that would have to wait for now.
Antares did not lie when he said that his family was large, the sheer number gathered in loose groups around the oasis where they sheltered from the worse of the high sun is unnerving, especially to a mare so new to solitude as herself. Nervously, her slender hooves shift beneath her as this time she hangs back and merely watches as Antares greets the others. She can feel the curious eyes of the others as they bore into her skin like the hot rays of a summer sun. Anxiety prickles at her skin but determination keeps it at bay. An almost demure expression falls into place upon her finely dished face as Guinevere dips her muzzle respectfully to those whose gaze lingers longest. How the hierarchy of this family unit worked she is not quite sure. Was it similar to her own? It must be different in a way, why else would there be so many gathered without bloodletting. All she can do is watch and wait. Perhaps then, she would be able to determine where or even if she fit in with this extended group.
The authoritative voice of Antares breaks through her thoughts and Guinevere blinks them away as her gaze travels back to the handsome stallion. Eyes of icy silver glance towards the sky above, registering just how much time has passed since she first met Antares. Dusk was upon them, already the skies above were painted in bright hues of orange, pink and lavender. Though still obscured by the bright colors of sunset, already the crescent moon can be seen, waiting patiently for its time to shine and turn the sands below into diamonds. A small smile tugs at the corners of her ash dusted lips. Her world might be different now but at least some things remained the same. It gave her hope to say the least.
The bright bay stallion speaks up, directing his gaze towards her for a moment and Guinevere blinks back at him silently. Those who haven't chosen a household? Her dark brows furrowed in confusion but she says nothing for now. She had only accepted Antares invitation to join them and nothing more so maybe that is why his gaze lingered on her.
She remains still as the rest of the gathered horses disband. Watching as some follow the back stallion and others trail in Antares wake. When the bay stallion begins to trek towards the far side of the oasis without another backwards glance does Guinevere bring herself to follow. Reluctant and cautious, she lingers on the edge of those few gathered, careful to give herself space to flee or attack should somehow she provoke the wrath of another. She watches as together they spread themselves out in a loose group and nose to tail fall into slumber. Yet despite the exhaustion that tugs at every fiber of her being, Guinevere finds that sleep eludes her. Instead, she wanders further from the others, following the dark shadow of her body cast over the silver blue sands. By now the moon has risen to its full glory, blanketing the dark landscape in a soft pale light. Lifting her small muzzle, Guinevere tastes the still air, savoring the cool, dry winds that swirl around her, lifting the ends of her dark mane and tail and bringing them to life like a flickering flame over a fire. A lullaby draws itself unbidden to her lips and Guinevere hums her song to the moon and the sands until finally sleep drifts over her.
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The stallion’s soft whistle stirs her from her restless slumber and yawning, Guinevere gives her slender figure a shake to rid the lingering remnants of sleep from her protesting body. Long, dark tail flicks lazily against her hips as she extends her legs one after the other and arches her back for a long stretch. Again she shakes, this time feeling the last of exhaustion disappearing into the recesses of her mind and body. Pale eyes glisten with excitement. Aside from joining the herd to meet this Dunes queen, she had the rest of the day to spend exploring the eastern borders of Salem and with any luck, perhaps even the queen would grant her the freedom to explore beyond that. The thought brought a smile to her lips and despite her thirst for a morning drink, Guinevere skirts around the water’s edge at a brisk prancing trot and joins the rest of the gathered horses as they trek towards the beach once more.
The mare of molten pewter hangs back as Antares and his brothers step forward to meet the queen. Silver gaze drifts from each brother to linger on the pale haired woman before them. She held herself with the regal authority of a queen and somewhere in the back of her mind, Guinevere felt a sort of recognition. Not for the dark woman cloaked in ivory, but the interaction maybe. Shrouded in shadows, images muted by the dark edges of her consciousness, the moonwashed woman remembers such customary greetings and procedural interactions. Odd. Or maybe not.
The crimson stallion is absent, and this causes her watchful eyes to drift from the gathered monarchs to scan the horizon behind them. He had bedded down last night before even she had managed to settle into sleep. Where was he now?
