it's a guarantee that he won't forget me.
my body little, my soul heavy.
Nerine pushes her out once again.
Though, this time one might think it is not the land (or that it never was) that sends her packing. It is habit, if not her internal self-loathing. At least once a week, Naia treks from the cruel wind of her father’s land and into whatever adventure might take her mind away. Funny, she thinks, that every time she wanders she finds something worth living for. A discovered grandmother, a queen in desperate need, a long lost sister . . . so on. Unfortunately, she finds it hard to remember those reasons most days and wanders as per usual.
Fairies: the the mythical rulers of Beqanna are the ones that deliver an excuse to leave once again. Lucky for the restless appaloosa - she is shivering with depressive energy, the bits of repressed anger that vibrate like little volcanoes too ready to explode. Pine needles crunch beneath her hoof when she takes that first breatheless step over the border, though this time she cannot relish it for the sensation has become so normal.
A brisk combination of cantering and galloping through Taiga and Hyaline brings her to the base of the mythical Mountain. The girl peers up its steep slope, an earned challenge gleaming like a jewel in her eyes. The scents of those that have travelled just before her fill her nostrils - land after foreign land (each developing a deeper desire to explore in the pit of her chest). A small smile creeps up her lips, sweet and silent and completely for herself. This quest’s distraction will do just fine.
At the top of the terrain they gather, equines big and small lingering amongst all different walks of life. Glittering eyes catch hers as her gaze traces anxious lines over the crowd. Each takes in the fairy’s message in their own way: Naia, dancing on the tips of her hooves and swallowing back the impatient whickers in the back of her throat.
As they all set forth, the girl lingers to be the last one once again. The appaloosa has never been one for crowds, even with an impending mission. She opts to let them scatter and flee, following suit once an appropriate distance has been set. Each quester seems to carry a comfortable pace to Island Resort, their lack of cyclical worry a bit soothing to her spinning mind. At least the trails they trampled offer some normalcy, though Naia constantly lives in denial of her need for stability.
Through Loess, riding the border of Taiga and Sylva, then through the sulfur of Tephra: all to step upon the beach and allow the waves to wash gently against her hooves. Out amongst the waves there is a bobbing head or two, signs of the struggle the well-trained girl is sure to face. It is not the physical strain that she fears (being one that spends most of her time beating the ground and trunks of trees), but the psychological terror that might follow. Her last quest required a . . . burning of flesh she is not entirely fond of. Naia gulps, pale brown eyes watering when salt splashes into her face.
No dropping out now, idiot.
At least, that is what she tells herself.
She cannot bear to disappoint herself anymore.
The water is a warm hug, the shallows failing to warn of the violence the channel possesses. She paddles with strong legs: back and forth in rapid succession, all in the fight to stay afloat. Settling into the controlled breathing of exertion is so comforting that she does not notice the leviathan only a tiny bit larger than her. It slithers beneath her, winding between her legs in the uncomfortable boneless manner that serpents possess. Its intelligence is daring and terrifying, dodging within an inch of Naia’s skin over and over again.
Cruelty shines in the creature’s eyes when the determined appaloosa draws close to the shore. It can sense her relief at spotting others shaking the water from their fur just within reach of breaching waves. The golden sand gleams in her eyes when it finally strikes, opting to toy with her instead of using predator’s fangs right away.
Sharp fins deliver minimal cuts to her side when it bumps into her side. A startled cry rings from her lips before the leviathan’s push knocks her off balance and sends her head beneath water. It is there, saltwater stinging her eyes, that the gleaming red eyes meet her’s. Naia thinks she can see its canines gleaming in a ferocious grin. Glowing algae and fluttering seaweed waver around its shrouded face. The girl rears her head back to the surface just in time to catch a full gasp of air before the creature drags her back underneath. The salt stings bite marks on Naia’s right front pastern and fetlock. She forces her eyes open against the pain of the water, catching sight of the serpent as it wriggles around her. It circles to the front and just below her front legs, mouth open to rip at her stomach when it darts forward. With a barely quick enough thought, the girl launches her uninjured front leg into its face, feeling a satisfying connection. Stunned, the leviathan drifts back to the bottom tauntingly out of reach, dark scales glowing amongst the waving seaweed.
She thinks she has won - she is wrong.
Its crimson eyes snap open; instead of reaching for air, Naia forces herself watch the serpent as it tries to get its bearings.
Think, Naia, think . . .
She remembers the fairy’s gift.
With short concentration, the seaweed begins to sprout thicker and thicker. What tendrils were already long grow even longer, and when the snake tries to lurch toward the appaloosa again it gets caught in the shivering seaweed that tangles in its rapid growth. Not waiting to see if it escapes, she resurfaces with a too desperate gasp and paddles her legs much harder than she has ever trained them.
Naia stumbles onto the sand, favoring the leg with puncture wounds, chest heaving in unresolved panic.
naia fights a small leviathan, beats it by tangling in seaweed she urges to grow, but has puncture wounds in her right front leg