08-09-2022, 09:15 PM
She peers out into the darkness of predawn, but sees only the black and almost-black shadows that make up the riverbank and hills beyond. Her twisting ears do not catch the sound of footsteps, and eventually she continues up the river. Myrna is able to keep from thinking of anything terrible for several hours, long enough to feel the air around her begin to warm and the air fill with the sound of birds woken by the sunrise.
Just past the grove of fruit trees she’d found shortly after their arrival in the Pampas, the palomino sees someone coming near. At first she thinks it Malik, but as they draw nearer she sees that the dark hue of their coats is all this mare and Myrna’s brother had in common.
There is something about her that is familiar, but she has met so few others outside her mountain home. Perhaps she is a relative of someone Myrna knows, and since she is not interested in knowing anyone else, she is prepared to simply offer a smile and carry on.
Except the mare, whose dark hide reminds Myrna a little of blue-black butterflies, is staring at her rather intently. MYrna looks up just as the stranger mentions the storm.
Her first instinct is to deny it. To ignore it, to pretend it hadn’t happened at all, to keep thinking of anything else but the fact that she’d helped to destroy her home.
But the stranger…No, not a stranger Myrna realizes as she looks closer. That one knows how to fly, Myrna remembers thinking; the feathered wings that carried Areane through the howling winds had not been a gift gained only a few moments earlier.
“I’m Myrna.” She says, because she has to say something into the too long silence that has now stretched between them. “From Hyaline. Well, I was. I guess from here now.” She has a tendency for the verbose and knows it, so the way that she and the way she draws her lips more tightly closed, drawn in a thin line, has a deliberate air.
@Areane
Just past the grove of fruit trees she’d found shortly after their arrival in the Pampas, the palomino sees someone coming near. At first she thinks it Malik, but as they draw nearer she sees that the dark hue of their coats is all this mare and Myrna’s brother had in common.
There is something about her that is familiar, but she has met so few others outside her mountain home. Perhaps she is a relative of someone Myrna knows, and since she is not interested in knowing anyone else, she is prepared to simply offer a smile and carry on.
Except the mare, whose dark hide reminds Myrna a little of blue-black butterflies, is staring at her rather intently. MYrna looks up just as the stranger mentions the storm.
Her first instinct is to deny it. To ignore it, to pretend it hadn’t happened at all, to keep thinking of anything else but the fact that she’d helped to destroy her home.
But the stranger…No, not a stranger Myrna realizes as she looks closer. That one knows how to fly, Myrna remembers thinking; the feathered wings that carried Areane through the howling winds had not been a gift gained only a few moments earlier.
“I’m Myrna.” She says, because she has to say something into the too long silence that has now stretched between them. “From Hyaline. Well, I was. I guess from here now.” She has a tendency for the verbose and knows it, so the way that she and the way she draws her lips more tightly closed, drawn in a thin line, has a deliberate air.
@Areane