I'd defy all the stars [rupture]

ASTANA // MAKE A WISH ON WHISPERED STARS

In the forest bordering the meadow, beneath the boughs of dark green pines needles or the evergreens, the pale golden form of Astana carefully picks her way through the overgrown path, her glorious white body sparkling gently in the milky golden light of the sun. The sunlight trickles through the open patches in the canopy, catching the dust particles in the air and causing the world around her to sparkle as the specks float around her. She is quiet and silent as she moves, her golden hooves barely making any sound as she presses them into the soft earth. Her diamond eyes illuminate in the sunshine, shining in rainbows as the golden light of the sun hits them. Her mane and her long tail gently brush against her as a slight breeze ruffles her. It is here, in the warmth of the sunshine that Astana cannot help but remember her home and her family that she left behind.

Here, she was a stranger; a nobody. She was unknown and only another face in the sea of horses, easily glanced over and unrecognizable.
But that, perhaps was the thing that was the most exciting.

She watches with that curious diamond gaze. From somewhere in the depths of her growing, golden mane, a pearly white moth breaks free. It is fuzzy and soft against the gentle and warm sunlight of the afternoon and Astana smiles breathlessly at the small insect. It rests momentarily on her nose, its emerald blinking eyes watching her for a few seconds before taking flight again and gently resting on her withers. The sensation causes her white golden skin to shiver and twitch slightly, the movement causing her already gold-sparkling skin to glitter even more brilliantly. The desert girl takes a deep breath, the scent of the damp woods giving her some comfort in this new place. There was a little beauty every where she looked. All Astana needed to do, she realized, was to keep those multifaceted eyes peeled and something or someone was sure to come her way.

For a girl that came from a land of sand and dunes, with a small Oasis, Beqanna held an immeasurable amount of beauty. There were so many different landscapes and she thinks, in her heart of hearts, that perhaps there is an ocean here too. Astana, the descendent of pirate lords and ocean tamers, the salt water is in her blood, she just has never seen it before. She has seen it in her mother’s dream, but she longs for the real taste of salty air on her tongue, and seaweed clinging to her mane as her feet make indents in the sand just to be washed away by high tide. Astana sometimes thinks if she just dreams hard enough, maybe she could go there, but alas, every morning she awakens, with land surrounding her, the ocean remaining where it has always been—in her dreams.

But she rounds a corner in the forest and all that is forgotten as diamond eyes spot a clearing. The sun streams through here too and illuminates the plant life, sending butterflies out into the world, dulling the moth that had clung to Astana only moments ago. A vibrant orange and black scene erupts before her as a group practically leaps from the log they had sat upon into the air. “Monarchs,” she says breathlessly. And she thinks, for a moment, how wonderful it must be to fly, and where they might go, and maybe one day they would tell her.

She can keep a secret, she promises.