Thia had spent months calling nowhere home.  She’d been continuously on the move fueled by both a powerful curiosity and a heavy wariness. She’d spent most of her time watching - observing how others interacted when they weren’t bound in chains. Insecurity had never been something the pale mare had struggled with, but outside of the walls of her temple she was out of her element and uncertain of what to do next. So she’d listened and learned the best she could, given the circumstances. But she felt stronger now - both physically and emotionally. 

The sheer terror of the unknown had abated. The fear that she would say or do something wrong was slowly replaced by a stronger emotion - loneliness. Though she’d spent nearly her entire life in isolation, she had never truly been alone. And while she was confident in her ability to keep herself alive, she felt as if she had not yet truly experienced what it was like to live. 

The pale mare’s soft feet sank deeply into the dark sand as she lands on the seashore.  She quickly tucks her large wings to her sides as dark eyes survey the landscape. This had to be the place Dawn had described. The pale priestess’ conversation with the girl had been perhaps her most significant to date.  Though she’d been too skittish to follow the girl anywhere, she’d committed the words to memory.  Black sands that glow silver in the moonlight.  The sun had already begun its descent towards the sea, and Thia wondered how long she’d need to wait to see the sands glow under the moon. 

She shifted, feeling the familiar discomfort of uncertainty ripple deep in her stomach, but she did not move from her spot among the shore.  She would see this through, one way or another. 

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She knew she’d been noticed, but she didn’t yet pull her attention from the sinking sun.  This place was nothing like her former home - all cliffs and mountains that belched sulfuric gasses. The air here was clear, with only the salt of the sea hanging in the air.  By the time Thia finally diverted her attention, she could clearly identify the shape of Dawn.  She was pleased that the girl - very much a woman now - still called this place home. 

“I never forgot how you described this place,” she said, quietly, in lieu of pleasantries.  She turns towards the other mare as a shadow of a smile flickered upon her lips.  

Part of her wants to apologize. She feels that Dawn is perhaps entitled to know how she had been equal parts overwhelmed and terrified upon her arrival in the Field. She wants to explain how much she appreciated Dawn’s kindness, but how she feared walking into the unknown. How she feared that her ignorance would have her walking back into the chains that once bound her.  Her entire life she’d wanted nothing more than a life of her own. She dreamed of what it was like to be free.  It was the sole motivating factor in her escape - the single thread of hope she’d clung to for so long. 

What she hadn’t considered, perhaps foolishly, is that freedom was an adjustment. She had to learn how to live without her shackles. That adjustment was a work in progress, and near-impossible to explain to those who had never been deprived their freedom. 

“I wondered for a long time if it was even possible to settle here - not just in the Cove but in Beqanna, as a whole,” she says. It is not the lengthy explanation she’d considered - but it is something to offer the gold mare.  

“I think I’d like to try, if you’ll have me.” 

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