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09-10-2012, 06:14 AM
Electricity traces the sky in fingers too stark for its darkness, illuminating the forest below and all who dwell within it. She feels torrents of rain upon her back, tracing down her throat in streams, rivers. Eyes closed, she draws a breath, humid and cool. This is home - for home is anywhere rain falls, and she is the rain child, the storm chaser; she is water and water is she, and she lets the onyx horn slide down her face in a black puddle. What more separates the races than a little water? So much savagery, so much resentment for little more than a twist in the genetic code, a horn or wings or nothing at all. A dark smile for a dark night. An ear flicks forward to a hint of sound, the cordial rumbling of voices. She feels her muscles lock, and cloven hooves dig into pine needles and dirt. Both ears tilt forward, and she can catch the strains of two female voices like brief summer breezes. Leonine tail flicks absently. She continues. The roan pushes forward through boughs of pine, hunched tiredly forward by the heavy rain. They brush past her, reaching to touch her blackened rind, to feel this daughter of rain. She allows a passing glance towards them, a flickering smile. The rain comes down harder, if it can, pressing hard enough to create an opaque sheet, a veil. Huyana was never the girl for cinematic, but she feels it suits her today. Thunder rumbles like voices ahead. She begins to run, but she does not slip. They come into view, these disembodied voices: a tall tobiano, a desert mare and a stallion with a dragon, pale and clear even in the torrent of water. She wonders how they see her, black and breathless and hornless and wet. Why is it so easy to condense a complex, living creature into a few words when there is obviously so much more? And Huyana pauses before them, looking lost in the rain. | ||
