H U Y A N A
the world is drowning

Her steps like the scatter of raindrops, the sterling mare crept on through the darkening forest, the distant purr of crickets vibrating through her bones. How many times had she come to this place, the possibility of relinquishing all she had in Helovia so near; she could leave and never come back and no one would think any more of it—she could explore new worlds entirely and learn their secrets, or she could find her way back home; but the thought daunted her. Blue eyes watched the evening sky in the distance, a bright panel of stars twinkling already as the darkness fell, and the realized something—she could never leave. She thought about Deimos, the sapphire-eyed general, and a pleasant warmth filled her belly, like basking in the sun after an eternity of night. She was home.

A quiet conversation interrupts her thoughts; she paused, ears pressed forward attentively—two female voices, soft velvet against dusk. The rain girl hurried toward it, wondering if she'd be able to bring another home. Hooves padded quietly over the brittle skeletons of leaves, shattering their ribs as she moved ever forward. It was not long until the voices materialized into bodies: a slender buckskin (with a horn, she noted) and an elegant roan with jewel-bright eyes. She caught the exchange of words, tilting her head curiously as she drew closer—they both spoke of darkness and light and sinners, and Huyana bit her tongue. So many were wont to compare their lives and states of mind to abstract things, which seemed entirely absurd—how could you compare a living, breathing thing that could dream and cry and kill to a time of day, and how could you rationalize their actions by naming them sins? She snorted softly, drawing to a halt nearby, gaze flicking between the two mares. "It is unwise to see only in darkness or light or grey," the roan murmured, her own voice soft like rain on glass compared to theirs, but not so easily lost in the tumult of their own words. The tip of her tail twitched, and she turned her blue eyes to the unicorn that smelled of outside, of things unknown—the scholar's curiosity was piqued by this stranger; she studied the graceful buckskin carefully, noting the strange, jagged mask she bore upon her face, the emerald eyes. "You can see so much more in color," Huyana concluded, flicking her gaze to the equine instead, watching her through dark eyelashes, somber but not unkind.