EVRAIN

The sound of approaching hooves pulled him from the edge of unconsciousness, the steady rhythm growing louder against the sound of the surf. Evrain's eyes, crusted with blood and salt, cracked open, the sky a blur of blue and white above him. It took every ounce of his willpower to lift his head fractionally from the sand, a kind-faced stranger manifesting in a smudge above him. His voice met Evrain's ears, low and soothing. A ragged gasp fell from between his lips as he took in the stranger's words. He had made it to the Prairie. The confirmation soothed his frayed nerves, his head falling with a heavy thud against the sea-soaked sand.

"Is Zevulun... where is Zevulun?" He gasped out feebly, voice cracking at the edges, gazing blearily up at the splashed stallion. Blood trickled slowly into one eye, staining his vision red. "Need to talk to him..." Zevulun had always been a steadfast ally. If anyone on these islands could offer sanctuary, it was him. Evrain clenched his jaw against the steady current of pain that arced along every nerve ending and attempted to adjust himself into a more upright position. The waves continued to lap steadily against his body, a reminder of his precarious position here upon the beach. Soon the tide would return - he would need to make every effort to move before he succumbed to a slow death drowning beneath the foam-capped waves.

After several long moments, Evrain managed to shift himself, his body trembling with the exertion. He peered up at the stranger, his gaze wary. "My name is Evrain. I come from the Hills, and I am seeking refuge. Please, pass my message along." His words came in stops and starts, panted out breathlessly between heaving lungfuls of air.