The Lost Islands
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Emhyr & Khoshekh
the keepers
Canis
the advisor
Copperhead - Encelia - Hellfyre - Hemming - Kalypso - Nala - Zymora
advisor's herd
None
captain of the guard
Aconite, Zircon
the guards
Eythora - Kohelet - Vhagar
the herd
 Azarae - Enid - Enver - Kalysto Koi - Orchid - Solzeren Zebella
the foals
Daciana [Cove]
the allies
None
the enemies
the rules
  1. No getting friendly with enemies.
  2. Visits to allied territories are encouraged.
  3. In the event both kings are absent, the Advisor will maintain the territory in their stead.
  4. Hover over names & ranks for additional information.
say my name the way a wolf howls at the moon
Posted on June 12, 2024 at 01:03:10 AM by Hemming

Hemming was a blip of blood and moonshadow as she wandered beneath the alpine boughs. She relished the feel of loamy earth giving beneath the weight of her hooves, surging forward even in the darkness. It had mattered little when setting out for her nightly trek to discover that there was no moon to light her way. It had become a sort of ritual for the bay in the last year: the nightly sojourn through the foothills and the forest on the higher slopes. The bay splash knew these woods by heart now. Light or no light, it wouldn’t make a difference to her.

She had spent the foremost part of her life wandering. After the discovery of her father’s body – of whom she had little recollection more than a glimpse of emerald eyes – Hemming and her dam had fled the Desert. They had holed up in the Dunes on the borderlands for a few months and the coast after that. Sinaet kept them isolated, not knowing who she could truly trust, for the months that were her daughter’s earliest solid memories. Hemming had enjoyed learning to swim under the watchful eye of her dam, but then, as soon as she proved strong enough to make the journey, Sinaet had guided them into the sea and away from everything they truly knew, heading for the Crossing Isle. They’d made their way across the Crossing and to the other islands before finally finding Canis – her near mythic older brother, she hadn’t been sure he was real – on Tinuvel.

Winter had been an altogether new experience for the newly made mare. It had been her first one on the northern island since they had arrived last spring. The deep snowdrifts had been a challenge to navigate, and the sheer drop in temperatures had occurred sooner and faster than her last winter on the Crossing Isle. Her mother had made her distaste for the climate obvious as the months had dragged on. A frown tugged at the dark corners of the mare’s mouth. Hemming understood that her dam had little love for the northern island other than the presence of her children and now grandchildren. She also understood that Sinaet wasn’t the sort to be content with sitting back at watching the little ones tumble in the spring grasses as they played. The older mare still wanted something else besides this quiet sort of life.

Hemming had smelled the stallion on her moons ago, the one whose scent trespassed beyond the borders from time to time. Something had changed in her dam even then. She was restless, quiet, even more so than normal. The young mare had guessed that Sinaet wanted to leave the Bay, especially once his scent was on her again in the fall. As her mother’s belly grew, Hemming knew all too well that the foal within belonged to the stranger from Salem. Now, with the foal – her sister who’d been named Impera – here at last and her third birthday come and gone, Hemming guessed her mother would move on and go back to Salem once the stallion came for her again. This left Hemming puzzling as to her own next steps.

Her thoughts paused immediately upon hearing a lone wolf howling. Instinct turns her away from the sound and down the slopes toward the wooded foothills below. Fate turns her further: in the direction of the beach. She is nearly a shadow herself, a ghost with pale tresses, among the evergreens. When the scent of an altogether different stranger greets her nostrils, Hemming is bewildered but steady. She’d sparred enough with her family to feel confident in her own skills and the impending presence of both her older brothers to not take flight. Her emerald irises peer long into the darkness before words leave her lips. The sound of her voice is a steady one, calm and offering a well-meant warning. “You’d do well to leave before my brothers find you.” Her eyes will flick toward the first trace of movement, flashing a new warning. “They're even less tolerable of intruders than I am.”

Hemming


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