you could break my heart in two, but when it heals, it beats for you

How is it that she cannot remember the last time she was here? Once she’d come down into the field every few days looking for unfamiliar faces and the chance to get to know someone new. Things had been different then, she had been less busy. Now she is a mother and has sole control of her territory and never seems to stop moving from task to task. It is a good thing she loves her home and does not mind so much the confinement forced on her by her many duties. Today she steals the time to visit the common lands because the wind out of the south is rich with the fragrance of rain.

The storm breaks just as she rises to the surface of the river, and the ripples caused by rain on the swiftly flowing water are mesmerizing. It is a pity she lacks the ability to travel via thunderhead and come to earth in rain drops. It would be almost as good as having those wings she has always desired.

A rumble of thunder vibrates in Kensa’s chest as she climbs a bank already streaming with mud and then hurtles past the treeline to find herself under an endless cloud curdled sky. Wind whips her blond locks around her face, and she turns to follow the curve of the forest’s edge along the meadow before racing on to the field. A flash of lightning and a plummeting little shape (so small, a little sparrow soaring and dropping in the midst of the fury) makes her drop her hocks and stop in the downpour. The sabino has chased a few storms but she has never seen a little bird fly with the same reckless willingness. In the short time she watches, blinking against the driving rain he disappears in and out of the low clouds and she trots wide loose circles trying to track the mad arrow of feathers.

The rain runs itself out and sunlight split the clouds near the coast but she is not distracted from the sparrow who descends from a tree branch where she had not seen him land to the ground. The tri-colored woman should be more surprised when he becomes a stallion, but a smile only pulls at the corner of her mouth slightly. “Thrillseeking or just testing the storm-worthiness of sparrows?” Kensa calls by way of greeting, cantering within speaking distance without a care to the splash of mud on her soaked pelt. “Kensa. I’m from Hyaline.” This is added when she stops close enough to extend her gold freckled muzzle to him. She is always abrupt with her introductions, managing to be charming without too much flair. Her colors were muted under the still gray sky, but the fingers of sunlight reach for her now, gilding the lines of her painted sides. Her topaz eyes hold genuine interest in both who he is and why he would throw a sparrow into a thunder storm. 

Kensa