"HOPING ONE DAY YOU'LL MAKE A DREAM LAST
BUT DREAMS COME SLOW AND THEY GO SO FAST."

Najya wanted to throw herself into the task, she wanted to clean and to purge and to help heal this place.  However her own reservations kept her from truly dedicating herself to the task.  A’mal, who had not seen the Gods of the Rift descend and wreak havok upon these lands, had no issue with the task and was busy ferrying the bones that both she and her bond mate had gathered from their pile to a pile much nearer to where Kisamoa had beckoned them to come.  As she made her trips back and forth, the dragon took stock of the progress of others - watching warily to make sure her pile grew just as steadily as those of the others.

Seeing this much death and decay made the russet mare uneasy, but not because she was squeamish.  Instead, the scene inspired memories in the desert mare that she found impossible to suppress.  Did bones of her loved ones now litter the sands of the desert she had fled? Is this what had become of her homeland - laid waste and left to decay out in the open, neglected and forgotten.   The whole scene made her profoundly uncomfortable, and so she abandoned the pile of bones that she and A’mal had already gathered, small as it was, and she wandered.

Part of her felt guilty for forgoing this task with such little thought, but she knew that she needed a distraction if she was to be of any use to anyone. Plus, she knew that A’mal would not be shaken from her duty, and that gave her some comfort. She hadn’t thought of home and what’d she left in a long time, but certainly wasn’t fond of the feelings that doing so inspired.  Bittersweet loneliness and longing.  She let out a frustrated huff as she continued to wander, paying little attention to her surroundings and the death and decay all around.

It was a curse, or something like it, that drew her attention and caused her curled ears to swivel in the direction of the sound.  It was not a language she recognized, but that did not stop her gaze from sweeping in the direction of the sound for something was vaguely familiar about the sound.  Her footfalls came more quickly now as she wove her way through trees and vines and over fallen logs and splintered bones.  Until she finally came across the source of the sound - the large pegasus who’d she’d met before.  Only this time there was no candy to be found.

There was, however, blood.  The little mare’s eyes narrowed as she fixated on the large stallion’s leg, concern quickly replacing good sense and decorum.   “Let me see that,” She said, quietly, moving quickly to inspect the source of the blood.   “You know,” she murmured, as she raised her head to meet his gaze, “You never did give me your name.” She hesitated a moment, though her eyes revealed a flicker of amusement. “Regardless, would you like me to take of that for you?” she asked with a glance to the leg and back again.

N A J Y A