.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
 Distractions kept the hard choices at bay; and memories that made most my nights horribly wakeful. With the blazing sun striking my back in unforgiving familiarity, I maneuvered my oldest strand of magic as part of daily training that had become routine. Sand. It was fun to simply spin it round and round as a warm up. Twisting sections into shapes that then merged into other indescribable silhouettes—the deep concentration furrowed my brow. The gold granules spun harmlessly into the air, forming beautiful patters that swirled toward heaven. After a few moments of this I willed them to spin faster, urging with a mere thought and by planting my hooves harder into the yielding earth below. Rapidly they spun, encircling my frame in a scattered array, yet never so much as brushing past a hair or feather on my body. The wind picked up, my focus intensified until the sound of whistling sand became a flush hum of blood pumping in each ear.
Sweat pooled around my center, slicking the folds of my muscles until I gleamed. Still they were urged on; steel laced chest heaved with effort, breath began coming in quick, short bursts. Eventually the sand consumed outside vision—it merged together to form a globe. A hurricane of sand, and I was its eye. An unpleasant grunt escaped between clinched teeth, lids slipped closed as I forcefully pushed against the barrier—stretching it to the breaking point. Stretching it until enough space had gathered between me and it that another full sized equine could be standing alongside. Our colours come alive when I collide with you
with you, with you
|
![[Image: 5388c9b80fe59]](http://images.helovia.net/index.php/view/5388c9b80fe59)
