it's a guarantee that he won't forget me.
my body little, my soul heavy.
As Naia favors her punctured back leg, the fairies offer a choice: to the empty beach or fascinating ruins? Her eyes darken with pain. It is hard for her to think straight with the rapid pulsing of her lower leg: she closes her eyes, centers her breathing - think, Naia, calm, remember the flatness that balances you when you battle.
And is this not just another battle?
With gritted teeth and a hissed sigh, the appaloosa swings her head back and forth. First, to the empty beach. What she notices most is the gentle washing of the waves, the back and forth of the sand as the ground’s top layer is shifted over again. Perhaps the seashells are floating ashore now - all in the grand plan the fairies have constructed? Perhaps they washed up long ago, buried just where the beach meets the foliage, pale and whittled by the cruel hands of perpetual sand.
Naia considers the barren beach, then turns to face the ruins while shifting her weight even further off her injured fetlock. I am lucky he did not snap my leg, she thinks bitterly, offering an exasperated huff into the universe before really focusing on her potential destination. The orca offers an interesting memory that will make the girl’s trip worth it even if she makes the wrong decision. Its towering height and curious carvings are almost irresistible: she finds herself leaning in the whale’s direction, attempting to make out little details even from the distance she is at. Alas, the draw is not enough. Her desire to win is far too overbearing, and she thinks the landmark is a suspiciously obvious place to hide special seashells.
The sand beneath her whispers as she turns toward the beach, finding relief in a decreasing of pain in her right leg.
naia goes left to the empty beach