let yourself fall

[Salena]

Freedom.

That was the only thought to be had by the pitch black mare as the trees opened before her, revealing what she hoped to be a safe new home, safe being the operative word. She squinted and lowered her head as the sun assaulted her icy blue eyes, unadjusted after such a long period in the dark. She walked to the lake, head hung slightly lower than usual to avoid the gaze of the other horses in the field. The dark horse strode over to where the waterfall crashed into the waiting pool of water below, and stepped in without hesitation. As she did so, her mothers words came back to her, "There are two types of people in this world Salena, those who test the water first and those who jump straight in." After those words had been spoken the young mare (who had been about a year and a half at the time) promised herself she would always be the type to just jump. 

The cool, clear water washed away the blood that remained on her legs, barely visible against the backing of her dar coat. Her teeth gritted and eyes closed as the frigid water infiltrated into the cuts left by the thorns and brambles that had torn at her body. She would have thought that the warm summer breeze would have heated the water she had submerged herself in, but no such luck. The young mare let the summer sun warm her, accepting more heat than normal horses would because of the dark coloring of her coat. She dropped her onyx head and drank the refreshing water that this new place had to offer. Her long mane floated out around her, giving the appearance of half of a dark halo. After fully replenishing her thirst, she departed from the lake, trotting out and up the bank.

The inky mare walked for a while before finding a plentiful patch of grass in full exposure of the sun, warming and drying her dark body. After a short period of sun bathing and snacking, the exhaustion from the mares journey overcame her and she let her long legs buckle underneath her and her head bow, closing her eyes and welcoming the sleep.

[Smother]

Smother

Freedom.

There is no such thing as freedom.

There is distance, space, air, surely. But there is no such thing as freedom. For when you leave another land, you come onto more. And for every land there is a leader. Without leaders, there is anarchy. And while we all know how I thirst for anarchy, most of society fears it. And therefore there are always leaders. And when a new land is discovered, a new leader is crowned. And that leader rules you, that leader controls you; you are alive for that leader. And then you are trapped again. You are yet again, chained by society.

Freedom, that word is a utopia. It is an ideal place, but not a reality.

I watch her, well, Turkish and I watch her. She is odd. She walks odd and acts like an equine and we just aren’t used to that here. Here we are modernized and evolved into social, manipulative freaks who feel emotions and eat each other’s feelings (literally). Here, we are the farthest thing from horses. We are monsters trapped in the pelt of a mammal that we long outgrew. She will change, they all change. Even the new ones, the alien ones, they change.

Soon she will be a modernized Beqannian. Poor little doe.

Should we go say hello? Turkish always asks, but I know it is never a question. It is just his way of insisting I do something without being belligerent enough to make me angry.

We should.

Well?

Alright, we will.

I know she has bedded down to sleep—I see that I am not blind—but really, I don’t care if she is tired. See, my goal is to bring her to my kingdom and add another recruit to the rankings. My job is to convince her my home is safe, and the field isn’t.

I know exactly how to do this.

I feel Turkish slither from my neck and wind his way down my leg. All ten feet of him crawls across the floor, the sight still making me slightly uneasy. I am lucky he is on my side, to be eaten by him is an unbearable thought.

He has disappeared by the time I reach vocal distance of the female. She is an ebony black—jet black, even—with matching blue eyes. Her’s are just as piercing as mine, with the most magnificent hue of sky. I nod to her, smiling has never been my thing.

“Well, you seem a little far from your home.” I state, it isn’t a question. I can tell she is a foreigner. I can see she is a fresh face. How? She is traditional. That is how.

“I am Smother.” Yet, another statement. I told you I wasn’t very practiced at the game. My eyes meet hers, surely she is annoyed at my wake up call but really, she owes me. Mares are targets here, and you can be the strongest of all but she won’t just be battling physical mass. She will be battling magic as well.

“It really isn’t safe here,” I reach behind my shoulder to nip at a sudden itch, biting hard on my skin before refocusing my attention.

On cue, I hear the blades of grass shift as my familiar albino Burmese Python slither through the grass. He hisses a threat.

“Maybe you should get up.”

He looks angry, thirsty almost before rewinding himself back up my leg and curling himself around my neck like a scarf. “Don’t mind Turkish, he really is polite. He is just very hungry.”

I watch her momentarily, drinking in her appearance and debating on whether she is the right fit. She has something about her—something. I am not big on compliments, in fact I don’t give out any. However, she may have what it takes.

“I don’t extend my offer often,” a little white lie,“but my home is looking for strong females. We are a female ‘herd’ so to speak, a kingdom. The Jungle. We only recruit the strongest and most intelligent hearts of women, and I think you might fit the bill. We can provide safety, shelter, food, water, and rewards should you work for it.

“I can show you, bring you there; if you like.”

[Thorunn]

thorrun;

And then there is Thorunn.

Not quite a diplomat, not quite a warrior, with that jaded look of a girl who's been through the ringer a time or two. You'd recognize that look if you stared long and hard at the lake before you jumped in - a reflection. Thorunn's story was common for a horse in Beqanna. Mother and Father were ranked, kings and queens, warriors and warrioresses. They were bright lights in the Valley's horizon that swore allegiance time and time again. They both fought wars, challenged others in battle, had scars upon scars to tell their story. And when they joined and birthed two beautiful girls - one with eyes the color of a pumpkin - it seemed that Fate decided to let them live on.

Then they died, within a year of each other, and Thorunn was left alone with her twin.
Then V left, and she was entirely alone.

The Valley felt like home the same way any place you'd spent too much time in felt like home. She knew each crevice and crack like the back of her hand. She knew the sensation of the mist of the cold morning's on her back like a second skin. And when she sought true solace she looked toward the Heart Tree that gave her mother live so many decades before. Would it, one day, spit the copper woman out? She hoped desperately. For her father there was no hope.

Despite the Valley being a home, Thorunn knew duty. She knew that despite her own quiet mannerisms and awkward ways she must try to build her kingdom, fight a battle, steal a thing. She was woefully unprepared to do anything other than fight. It was obvious on her chestnut coat - muscles rippled easily beneath her squat frame, looking more disjointed and ghastly than beautiful. She had an awkward sort of beauty and grace belied by her almost sour countenance. She wasn't mean perse, moreso morose. Intentionally trying to be bland. In the process of emulating her father's cold stare she lost all sense of her own.

The snake drew her attention first and foremost, causing her to abandon her path to investigate it from a safe distance. "What does it eat?" she asks the mare that commands it. There was something familiar about the girl, a familiarity she can't quite place a finger on or shake, so she hangs around a moment longer. She sees the mare - previously resting - and nods her own head to her. "I am Thorunn, of the Valley. What's your name?"

Great start, self, she praises herself mentally.

[Salena]

It wasn't the noise that woke her, it was the movement. And the smell. All of the receptors in her brain fired at once. 
Snake.
Her long ebony legs snapped into place beneath her and she rose, surveying her surroundings and catching sight of the scent that woke her. The albino serpent slithered closer and closer to her before coming to a halt directly in front of her. Her nostrils flared as another scent assaulted them, another horse, a mare. She diverted her eyes from the snake (if you could even call it that) to horse that headless stopped before her. She was beautiful, and large, with what she could catch from the quick glance thrown her way, before returning her icy gaze to the creature in front of her. One more quick glance tossed towards the other horse revealed her relaxed gaze and posture, and Salena decided that if the snake wasn't a threat to the other mare, she should at least act as if she believed that it wouldn't harm her. Her mothers soft spoken words came back to her, "Don't move, Salena," her chocolate gaze didn't move from the reptile in front of her, "Make no sudden movements and it very probably won't hurt you. They can sense fear." 

The young mare shook her dark head and let her long mane fall over her eyes. Even though some of her words mimicked a question, the way she said them made it apparent that they weren't, so she saw no reason to answer. The mare nearly rolled her eyes at Smother's claim that this newfound place wasn't safe. Nothing is safe. She new this. There is nothing in ones possession that cannot be taken away at a moments notice, even the life you've been lent. The long python that she had been concentrating so hard on not fearing, on not paying attention to hissed a sudden warning before creeping steadily along the other horse's leg and coiling around her long neck. Her eyes narrowed on a pair that nearly matched her own, finally having only one potential source of danger she needed to focus on. The paint mare continued speaking,and Salena watched her carefully. If there was one thing her past had taught her it was when she was being lied to. It sometimes took her a while to discern he particular quirks and tells one had when being caught in a lie, but she could always tell in the long run. 

That was how she new that the mare in front of her was not being completely honest. She grinned as the words came out of her mouth but made no move to call her out. That wasn't the right way to begin your fresh start, now was it? 

The other horse continued, telling her about the potential home she had to offer, the possibilities in store. "Your home sounds lovely," she decided being polite was the right way to start a conversation with any possible future acquaintance, "I would love to hear more about it, anything really. My old home is gone. So I am indeed looking for a new one. I would love a tour as well." She had barely finished her sentence before another mare, younger, approached them. Although the chestnut filly appeared young, the was a knowledge and wiseness in her eyes that couldn't be ignored. Besides the wealth of experience in her eyes, they seemed almost...dead. And Salena wondered what had made them that way. Most likely the experience that made her so wary of the world around her. 

"What does it eat?"

Those were the first words out of the mares mouth after joining the pair, obviously referring to the snake which she was so curiously inspecting.
The second were in question, "I am Thorunn, of the Valley. What's your name?" The ebony horse dropped her head in greeting and replied, "I am Salena." Her dark head raised again and she waited patiently for the others to continue. 

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