01-09-2018, 11:08 PM
Their trip hadn’t been the smoothest. With each passing week, Wound feels herself slowing down. Her pregnancy isn’t necessarily difficult, but it does make it harder to travel between the island and the mainland when she is beginning to swell and there is more weight to push on her disfigured leg. By the time they had reached the shoreline, the tide was beginning to rise. Wound had probably pushed it, wary of the predators of the night beginning to curl around them and rushing to reach the comforting, warm shores of Tephra.
The lost roan had found a spot for herself quickly and Wound had promised to linger nearby. She knew she was just taking this mare further from her home (but the scents that buried themselves among her strawberry hair were dusty with distance and thick with unfamiliarity) and so she wished to ease any concerns she might have. Rather than seeking out the comforts of her normal sleeping places, Wound found a place near the mare to rest her swollen frame until the morning.
She wakes to the distance sound of Raewen’s voice. It sounds blurry at first, against the rustling of the foliage, but Wound eventually rises from her drowsiness and shakes the rest of the sleep away. By the time she locates the red roan, there is a dazzling blue colt cautiously approaching her newfound friend. Although the silver bay isn’t close to the child, she can instantly identify him as one of Longclaw’s children. The blue of his coloring and unmistakably handsome features stand out from a mile away.
Wound begins to trot closer to the pair, her steps carrying an awkward limp to them considering her disfigured leg. She is breathing rather heavily by the time she reaches them, although the distance was minimal. “Raewen! I’m sorry to have frightened you, I was close by the entire night.” Despite her conscious, Wound extends her nose to lightly brush a comforting touch across the other mare’s shoulder (though she does leave time for the mare to react should she not desire the soothing touch). The silver bay then turns toward the colt.
“Hello, my name is Wound. This is Raewen, she’s new to Tephra. How about you introduce yourself to her, yes?” Her words are gentle and inviting, already the teaching words of a mother. Although Wound has no intention of practicing her ideas of parenting on this colt, her natural tendencies toward motherly instincts play out perfectly in this situation regardless.
The lost roan had found a spot for herself quickly and Wound had promised to linger nearby. She knew she was just taking this mare further from her home (but the scents that buried themselves among her strawberry hair were dusty with distance and thick with unfamiliarity) and so she wished to ease any concerns she might have. Rather than seeking out the comforts of her normal sleeping places, Wound found a place near the mare to rest her swollen frame until the morning.
She wakes to the distance sound of Raewen’s voice. It sounds blurry at first, against the rustling of the foliage, but Wound eventually rises from her drowsiness and shakes the rest of the sleep away. By the time she locates the red roan, there is a dazzling blue colt cautiously approaching her newfound friend. Although the silver bay isn’t close to the child, she can instantly identify him as one of Longclaw’s children. The blue of his coloring and unmistakably handsome features stand out from a mile away.
Wound begins to trot closer to the pair, her steps carrying an awkward limp to them considering her disfigured leg. She is breathing rather heavily by the time she reaches them, although the distance was minimal. “Raewen! I’m sorry to have frightened you, I was close by the entire night.” Despite her conscious, Wound extends her nose to lightly brush a comforting touch across the other mare’s shoulder (though she does leave time for the mare to react should she not desire the soothing touch). The silver bay then turns toward the colt.
“Hello, my name is Wound. This is Raewen, she’s new to Tephra. How about you introduce yourself to her, yes?” Her words are gentle and inviting, already the teaching words of a mother. Although Wound has no intention of practicing her ideas of parenting on this colt, her natural tendencies toward motherly instincts play out perfectly in this situation regardless.