inside all of us is a wild thing; ashley

[Azlyn]

azlyn. As she walks, she can’t help but wonder about her children. It’s been years since her last, since she lost Lestrade when the fire-wielding stallion had attacked. She hasn’t been able to bring herself to have another since then. Too much pain, too many memories. But she hopes he’s alright, wherever he is. She believes, no, feels, in her heart that he’s alive, however irrational it may be. She wonders what kind of stallion he’s grown up to become. Is he gentle and kind? Or has a harsh life on his own twisted him? Does he even remember his mother? And what of the others? What of Raylene, Kilian, Elektra, Teslah, Tiana and Sirin? She had raised them all to at least young adulthood, but she hasn’t seen any of them in years. Are they healthy? Have they too been affected by this change in Beqanna? Have they had children of their own? A heavy sigh escapes her as she rounds a particularly thick oak. She’s lived the traveling life ever since leaving the Amazons (funny to think they don’t even exist now), but now … now it’s starting to weigh on her. It’d been nice at first to have nothing tying her down, but now, in this time of massive change, she has no one. No one at all. For the first time in a long time she wishes she had somewhere to call home. At the very least then she’d have someone to talk to, to commiserate with over the loss of all their gifts. Damn fairies. She understood their frustration, she really did. The horses of Beqanna have been warring off and on ever since the original land had first been forced up out of the sea (it’s part of the reason she’d left the Amazons). But why take it out on the little guys? Why take it out on the horses that had nothing to do with the damage and destruction? Crack! Her ears flick to attention and her brown eyes become wide and alert as thoughts of the fairies flee her mind. The sound had come from somewhere nearby, and it had had the distinct, unpleasant quality of bone cracking against bone. On the alert, she peers around another tree, and is instantly transfixed by what she sees. A buckskin stallion stands alone, seemingly unaware of her presence. He would be perfectly ordinary … except that he’s currently growing a pair of wings. She watches for a moment longer, fascinated as bones shoot out of his shoulder blades forming the scaffolding of a new set of wings. She doesn’t miss the grimace of pain on his face, and takes the cue to step forward, offering a few words in a matter of fact tone, “that doesn't seem entirely pleasant.”