Common

Weak and disoriented, the Overo mare lurched onto the beach. Water streamed from her emaciated frame, tracing the sharp angles of her protruding hips. Months of captivity had left their mark; the reek of her captors saturated her coat, fouling each ragged breath. Her heart hammered a frantic rhythm against her ribs as the late summer breeze stirred the tangles of her mane. She staggered forward until her knees gave way. Only the fierce blood of her father had spared her the slow, agonizing death they had intended.

Though ravaged, her dark eyes burned with a fierce inner fire. She inhaled deeply, relishing the clean, cool evening air. Her capture, so soon after leaving the Isles, had been unexpected. She and her mother had followed the ancestral path to her mother's shores, but the journey had ended in ambush and separation. She fought down the surge of terror that the memory evoked. Alone now, and with her mother's fate unknown, she nevertheless found a sliver of solace in familiarity: she knew this land.

With a slow, agonizing effort, she gathered her legs beneath her and pushed herself upright. Her knees trembled, but they held. She lifted her head, her gaze fixed on the promise of green just beyond the reach of the sand. Driven by relentless hunger, she navigated the hardened beach and began to tear at the grasses. The taste exploded on her tongue, a burst of life. Without hesitation, she cropped the blades, chewing and swallowing with urgent need, and reaching for more.

The crunch of hooves on pebbles sliced through the tranquil evening, halting her in her chewing. Her ears flicked nervously against her arched neck, and her face contorted into a scowl.

"W-who's there?" she rasped, her voice raw and strained.