10-14-2024, 12:13 PM
(This post was last modified: 10-14-2024, 12:14 PM by Cascadia.)
Coming into the clearing she scanned her surroundings whilst nudging the exhausted foal along. She traveled too far with her foal too young, the need to find safe haven for her child before they could rest.
Stopping on the edge of the meadow she watched as her foal basically collapsed, guilt tugging at her. Dropping her head she nuzzled her sleepy foal before whispering "sleep little one"
She'd make sure her little one fed when she awoke again.
As exhaustion hit her she closed her eyes, she needed rest but she also needed safety. Maybe this place could offer that, I guess she'd just have to see.
10-15-2024, 02:04 PM
(This post was last modified: 10-18-2024, 06:01 AM by Viszla.)
As the days grow longer, Myrna has often found herself wandering through the common lands. She never has any particular destination in mind, and is often accompanied by one or both of her children. Today they both had chosen to remain in the Gates, declining their mother's offer of a journey to the Meadow, and so the pale palomino mare wanders alone through the waving grasses.
She takes a deep breath of the warm summer air, and it takes her a moment to realize that she is not alone. That is the scent of another horse - not a deer or other wild beast.
"Hello?" She calls out, using her voice and then her eyes and ears to locate the stranger. She does not hear a response, and when she can see or smell nothing, she continues further into the Meadow. Only when she is nearly at the opposite edge does she see other mare, her tricolored coat impossible to miss against the summer dappled green.
"Hello!" Myrna calls out again, her voice as warm as her smile as she draws closer, oblivious to the foal at the other's feet and her wearniess, so excited is she to find someone in the Meadow. "It's a lovely day, isn't it?"
Somewhat alert still even though half asleep she didn't hear the other equine at first, at least not consciously, although her flicking ear told of another story, one where her subconscious have heard the voice on the breeze, her psyche either didn't reconized the danger or maybe a part of subconscious was reconizing, from the strange mares posture or calming voice tone, that she wasn't a danger to her new born.
And so she stays half asleep right up until the mare speaks for a second time.
Heading shooting up so quickly she could have given herself whiplash from the move, she let's out an anxious snort, shaking her head to clear the last of exhaustion from her mind, adrenaline taking its place instantaneously as she scans her surroundings for whoever spoke.
As her eyes locked with the unfamiliar palomino mare she takes a single step forward, placing herself protectively in front of the black and white fluffy bundle on the floor, the newborn still deep in sleep, oblivious to her mother's concerns of safety.
"I suppose it is" she replied slowly, weariness etched into every word. She'd traveled a long way from where her demons lie but that didn't mean she was safe here, it could all be an illusion designed her trick her into carefree submission. Cynical? Definately. But with motherly instincts racing through her system the only thing that mattered in her current world was protecting her child.
10-18-2024, 06:01 AM
(This post was last modified: 10-18-2024, 06:01 AM by Viszla.)
Myrna sees that the other horse adjusts her stance as Myrna approaches, and as she draws nearer she can see the weariness in the other’s expression. For just a moment, she feels guilt for having interrupted the other’s sleep, and then her pale blue-grey eyes spot the sleeping foal curled beneath her protective dam.
At that, Myrna’s eyes warm, and she looks back at the buckskin mare with a fond smile.
‘I suppose it is,” the other says, and having been distracted by the sight of the child, it takes her a moment to remember that she’d commented on the lovely weather as she’d approached.
“I’m Myrna,” she says. Though she recognizes the other’s defensive stance, Myrna makes no mention of it. Instead, she leans back, settling her weight comfortably in a manner that makes it clear she’s not about to leap forward and attack.
“Mine are yearlings,” she says, gesturing toward the child but not looking overly long lest it make the other nervous. “They grow so quickly.” She’s considered leaving the other to her rest, but there are so few others with whom to converse that Myrna is not so eager to leave. If this stranger wishes solitude, Myrna tells herself that she will ask for it.
As the other mare drew closer the young mother stiffened, at least until it became clear that she hadn't seen her child when she first approached. With that she relaxed again, she wasn't coming across as a threat to her newborn, especially when she spoke of her own foals.
Truth be told, Cascadia was feeling extremely overwhelmed with running from her demons and only having given birth 2 days ago. She was exhausted both mentally and physically, her body hadn't had a chance to recover before she had been forced to be on the move again. She worried over her newborn, of doing things right for her, she already had forced the little filly to travel for 2 days past the point of exhaustion, an action she felt incredible guilt over.
On hearing the mare speak her name, realisation hit her of how her stand off attitude must have appeared, mentally scolding herself as a yawn took over her.
"My apologies, I'm Cascadia" she replied, shifting her position and dropping her head until she can nuzzle her sleeping daughter "and this is Wynters" she says, her voice taking on that softer tone as she speaks about the most important thing in her life right now.
On hearing her mother's voice and touch the small foal lifted her head slightly, her ice blue eyes standing out against the black ringed fur that circles both eyes, against her almost white body. Eyes half closed in sleep, oblivious to the stranger her mother was conversing with, the young foal allowed her head to flop back down, asleep in seconds.
As the tri coloured mare brought her focus back to the other horse, she shook her head a little to clear some of the fog taking up residence there, before asking the question that was for front of her mind.
"So, do you live in these lands somewhere?" she spoke once more, the tiniest slither of something akin to hope wanting to take hold at the mere thought of finding somewhere safe to raise her child.
Myrna admires the weary mother’s caution, familiar with both exhaustion and the terror-joy that is motherhood. Neither make the stranger seem rude, and it would take far more to stave off the curious palomino mare.
Cascadia, she says her name is, and Wynters is the name of her child. Myrna would have introduced herself to the little one as well, but the weary child is soon asleep, and her attention drawn back by the mother’s question
“I live in the Gates,” Myrna replies, gesturing toward the west where her homeland lies. The motion jostles the flowers that rest atop her horns, dislodging a loudly buzzing bee that quickly disappears into a nearby bramble. The floral crown marks her as the leader of the Gates, at least to those familiar with their customs.
“We’ve a magical waterfall there,” she offers, “one capable of healing most any wound. Plenty of food and shelter as well.” Myrna pauses, not entirely sure how the Beqannaians of old managed to recruit others, but carrying on in the way that would work best on her. “I could also use the company, if I’m honest. And I think Ravin and Luvi would love a playmate. Would you like to see it?”
Listening to Myrna describe her home, Cascadia looked down to her young foal. It would be nice to have somewhere to call home again, somewhere she could raise her child and where she'd have other young ones to play with. And all importantly, it sounded safe.
She smiled as the other mare spoke of company, it wasn't really something she had thought of recently, surviving and moving had been her only concern. But now, now she could feel the lonely tugging at her very soul, having some company sounds nice, maybe even an eventual friend.
"Some company sounds nice" she spoke slowly, nodding her head absentmindedly. "I've been on my own for 9 months now, I had started to forget how lonely it was, and how on edge constantly looking for danger made you not realising she had lost eye contact she lifted her head slightly to regain it, the weariness mostly gone from her eye and it would be nice to have someone to talk to. I would very much like to see your home, thank you. she replied with a soft smile.
Focusing on her sleeping foal with a gentle nudge "of course that relies on getting sleeping beauty to wake up" she said, with another nudge to her childs flank, earning her a grumble of complaint.
Another nudge as she tried to rouse the tired foal wynters, I need you to wake darling."
With a put out huff the grumpy foal lifted her head, reluctantly struggling to unsteady legs at her mother's insistent nudging. For a few long beats she wobbled on legs that were too long, leaning against her mother for support until she felt she was stable enough to not fall on her face. Taking a few tentative steps away from her mother's support, just to prove she could.
Dispite her age, most newborns weren't as clumsy on their feet as she was. Of course that fact escaped the foal, but not the mother, who blamed herself for pushing her foal to travel for days just after her birth.
It was only then that the foal noticed the other mare. Her head tilting in curiously, eye wide with the innocent intrigue of a young child seeing something for the first time.
Some company sounds nice, the other mare agrees. Myrna listen as she explains she has been on her own for nearly a year, and at that the palomino’s brows raise. Being alone for most of her pregnancy, especially toward the end, is an impressive feat. Now is not the time for compliments though, as Cascadia’s expression makes it clear she is thinking of those same dangers that she had to face. Myrna, with her own history, knows better than to dwell too long on such dark thoughts.
Instead, Myrna thinks of her own children as she waits until Cascadia looks back, and then smiles at her acceptance of Myrna’s offer.
The child’s reluctance to wake and join them elicits a soft laugh, as familiar as she is with such behavior. Her son Ravin is nearly impossible to rouse from slumber, but his twin sister Luvi wakes at the slightest noise, even from a deep sleep.
“Hello Wynters,” she says, when the foal is awake enough and standing. “My name is Myrna.” She does her best to remain still, not wanting to startle the very young foal. Now that the little filly is standing, Myrna can see that she is even younger than she’d first thought. Once more she glances over toward Cascadia, impressed that a mare so recently foaled and without company remains on her own feet.
She’d told her children that she’d be back by nightfall, but it had been with the intent of returning well before that. With Cascadia and young Wynters in tow, Myrna realizes that a dusk arrival is likely accurate. The path to her home is not an arduous one, but any distance is difficult on young tired hooves.
“We’ll have to cross the River here,” she says as she looks once more toward the mother. “It’s shallow this time of year, and shallowest up here farther from the sea. Then we can just follow the shoreline to the Gates.” A more direct path would be through the heart of the Forest, Myrna knows, but has no desire to brave the darkness there.
The palomino mare glances west, toward home, then back to Cascadia for a response before preparing to lead the way there.
The young foals eyes widened when the other mare addressed her, her body going tense as she pressed into her mothers side, any confidence the foal might have had disappearing when the mare focused on her.
Turning her head towards her weary daughter, Cascadia nuzzled her softly, reassuring the foal that all was well.
When her gaze returned to Myrna she gave her a apologetic smile, I'm sorry for Wynters reaction, your the first non threatening animal she has met she explained.
Listening to Myrna talk about crossing a river she looked down to her foal, worried about the dangers associated with such a task.
Cross the river she echos slowly. How deep is this river? she questions, anxiously looking back down to her foal, scared for her foals life if it included the youngster having to swim.
Taking a few tentative steps forward as she made the decision to put trust in this unfamiliar mare, at least for now. Myrna has said she had children, so she would understand how weak a newborn could be. As a mother herself she wouldn't place another's foal in harms way, would she?
As Wynter’s eyes widen, Myrna’s own grey-blue gaze softens even as her friendly smile remains the same. Fear keeps the young alive; the palomino mare has no doubt that the child’s confidence will grow as she does.
“I can be a bit much,” Myrna responds lightly, tilting her head in a way that highlights the crown of flowers and the pair of curved, glowing opalescent horns that support it, each ending sharp and dangerous looking point. Myrna’s charming smile and mannerism are enough to detract from the danger of them to most she encounters, but the young filly is wise to be wary, especially if she is trusting her past experience.
There’s wariness in Cascadia’s tone as well, Myrna hears, flicking her golden ears back toward the mother as she speaks. How deep is the river, she asks, and Myrna glances back toward Wynter.
“May just up to her knees in the deepest parts, at least this time of year. Once the spring thaw comes through though, only the bravest and the fish can swim across.” Cascadia is right to trust that she would not endanger the child, or even the child’s mother. Company is rare enough that she treasures it, and she is doubly invested for her own children’s sake; she is sure they will be elated at the thought of a playmate.
“We’ll probably arrive before nightfall,” Myrna says as she begins to head toward the River. “But if either of you get too tired and need a rest, I don’t mind keeping an eye out.”
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