it's a guarantee that he won't forget me.
my body little, my soul heavy.
Citizen of Beqanna, wanderer of the unruled lands, now resident of Nerine: Naia, black and gold and bitter like the taste that never leaves her mouth. Not really a resident if I’m always avoiding being there. Her thoughts are as cruel as ever, her inner self corned by bloodied and ravenous wolves. She cowers within, wincing beneath the weak shadows her wolves can see directly through.
It won’t be long now; no, not long at all.
Whatever callous god that demands Naia bow is no matter: will she ever learn? Her restlessness seeps deeper and deeper into her muscles, pushing her further from Nerine by the minute. Her steps grow faster, a brisk walk melting into a practiced trot, then a hurried canter -
Am I galloping?
Naia comes to a scuffling stop, her breathe loud as her chest rises and falls violently. Piles of pine needles and damp soil formed at her front hooves when she halted, which she kicks away with a dramatic huff. The Tephra and Taiga border is close to where she stops: the sweet smell of the pine and the salty smell of the sulfur mingling in her nostrils. She peers through the redwoods to where they mix and soon end with the Tephra foliage. Naia does not belong here, not amongst the towering trees and not protected by the heat of the volcano. Sighing, she turns her head back to where she came, but the thought of the briney smell of Nerine leaves her nauseous.
At the border, the appaloosa whickers - not particularly looking for company but hoping she will be invited in to explore.
@[Chryseis]