From the Cove to the river, young Mazikeen swims as an otter. She’s been practicing her shifting more and more, using it as a means to distract herself. In the crisp autumn air as she floats on her back, watching the sky shift from afternoon to evening, she battles feelings of contentment and guilt. She’s on the cusp of adulthood and she wonders whether it is normal for all foals to find a new family, to drift away from their parents. For a moment she thinks of Firion, running towards something more, but dunking her head under the water erases those thoughts.
It’s almost dark when she climbs out of the river just before it meets the sea - shaking out her white fur before shifting back into her horse form. The shift doesn’t get rid of all the water, though, and even after shaking her mane and tail cling to her skin and chill her in the autumn air. But when she tries to turn back into something, anything, more waterproof there is nothing for her to grasp onto - she’s too exhausted from the trip here. It was good to push herself, holding onto a shape for so long, but now she needs to wait and rest until she can shift again.
Two things that Mazikeen is increasingly finding harder and harder to do the older she gets.
Orange eyes blaze in annoyance and they cast around looking for someone to either distract her from the chill and exhaustion or someone to take it out on. Either will do.