01-06-2018, 10:54 PM
She’s spent most of her winter in the field. Many newcomers had washed onto Beqanna’s shores during the chilly season and so Wound had diligently been helping them to their feet and brushing the wet sand off their shoulders. Whether they came with her to Tephra or chose a different home was something she didn’t care about so long as they were greeted by a gentle face and comforting words to soothe their confusion.
However, as her sides continue to swell with the growing of her child, Wound finds herself retreating deeper into the comforting, humid embrace of Tephra. There are only so many trips across the sandbank into the frozen forests of the mainland she can make. As her weight grows heavier with the added pressure of her cargo, her leg gains a heavier limp to it as well. Wound finds her joints ache quicker among the chill of the mainland, and each trip seems to stretch longer than the last.
The warmth of Tephra’s volcano soothes her muscles. Whether she is wading in the salty shores or exploring dark caves or weaving along lava-streams, Wound finds the weather of her island home a comfort compared to the outside. Her decided absence of activity gives her time to think — about the child growing in her womb, about the type of father Warrick will be (if he decides to be one), about the friends she has now (Femur and Longclaw and Epithet), and about the friends she will have in the future.
Her mind continually returns to Longclaw. Wound has seen the blue stallion around several times in the months since Femur brought her to the shoreline and, although she would consider him an acquaintance, there is little she knows about him besides the snippets she has caught. With all the extra time she has, Wound decides to seek him out. It’s relatively easy to find him, as she’s noticed him prowling on the borders of Tephra.
The sand is grainy beneath her feet and she clumsily stumbles along to reach the blue commander. Wound’s cheeks are hot with embarrassment when she finally reaches Longclaw. “I must seem like such a klutz, struggling across the sand like that.” There’s humorous laughter to her voice and her eyes sparkle despite the obvious discomfort in her facial expression. The silver bay waits for a moment to catch her breath, ears twitching as the waves quietly lap at the beachfront.
@[Longclaw]
However, as her sides continue to swell with the growing of her child, Wound finds herself retreating deeper into the comforting, humid embrace of Tephra. There are only so many trips across the sandbank into the frozen forests of the mainland she can make. As her weight grows heavier with the added pressure of her cargo, her leg gains a heavier limp to it as well. Wound finds her joints ache quicker among the chill of the mainland, and each trip seems to stretch longer than the last.
The warmth of Tephra’s volcano soothes her muscles. Whether she is wading in the salty shores or exploring dark caves or weaving along lava-streams, Wound finds the weather of her island home a comfort compared to the outside. Her decided absence of activity gives her time to think — about the child growing in her womb, about the type of father Warrick will be (if he decides to be one), about the friends she has now (Femur and Longclaw and Epithet), and about the friends she will have in the future.
Her mind continually returns to Longclaw. Wound has seen the blue stallion around several times in the months since Femur brought her to the shoreline and, although she would consider him an acquaintance, there is little she knows about him besides the snippets she has caught. With all the extra time she has, Wound decides to seek him out. It’s relatively easy to find him, as she’s noticed him prowling on the borders of Tephra.
The sand is grainy beneath her feet and she clumsily stumbles along to reach the blue commander. Wound’s cheeks are hot with embarrassment when she finally reaches Longclaw. “I must seem like such a klutz, struggling across the sand like that.” There’s humorous laughter to her voice and her eyes sparkle despite the obvious discomfort in her facial expression. The silver bay waits for a moment to catch her breath, ears twitching as the waves quietly lap at the beachfront.
@[Longclaw]