Cosmos has wandered, away and far: long across the vast land of Beqanna where mountainous wolves linger in shadows and the darkness itself is more friend than foe. Myrakari has seen her: watching from the trees and vines as Cosmos walked and fled wild and fast through the borders.
“Going?” she questions, the rattling branches cacophonous as the weight of the filly is brought upon them and her leathery toes curls around each: teeth biting as she climbs down. Like Cosmos, she goes: those raptor-like talons sharp and dangerous: perilously gleaning as she bounces.
Pat, pat, pat, pat, pat, pat, pat.
Onward across borders and through forests: her silvery eyes locked on her sister and hollow-boned body quick as she clamoured up trees and ran through the very branches themselves. Easier to navigate than the earth.
By all means and in all ways: Myrkari is almost more bird than horse, and she springs from one branch to another: gliding like she has wings. It is when she reaches the playground that she tilts her head, blinks and studies it: watching as the world seems new and strange. Cosmos is gone already, unaware that Myrkari had even followed her; but the bird-like child taps her talons again and leaves scratches in the earth.
She does not see when or how Evenstar, Aegean, and Kleopatra got there; but they are with Cosmos and Myrkari feels a strange pang of curiosity. The bright light is warm, and she tastes the spring air and all the vast wilderness in the wind.
Pines and flowers, the spring water and brooks- all the frost melting, and through the rich green she moves with a predators ease. Like a curtain or a shawl, a hum of energy wraps around her and Myrkari sinks into the floor, passes through the soil as if she were not there: her body invisible as she stalks to them and finally surfaces directly next to Cosmos.
A brilliant reddish-blonde in body she seems almost golden; but her darker mane and tail are earthier and ochre in tone. Primitive markings on her legs and a stripe along her back are present, but while she looks all normal: her feet are not hooves.
No.
Rather there is a hairless, leathery patch of skin that stretches down and opens up into three frontal toes and one back claw: raptor-like and ever present with looming… dangerous talons. Her head cocks and those eerily pale blue eyes watch them. Silent but quick to recognize it, she speaks up: a whistle in her voice and an accent that rang familiar to the more western regions of Beqanna.
“Hello.” she chirps. “I am Myrkari, hi hi.” repetitive, but, solemn- she blinks: her mind questioning whether or not these new friends were just that… or if they were foe, or worse: prey.
you have to become equal in every way