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BY THE PRECEPTS OF HER PURITY
Like blooming flowers the golden sand erupted from the hills when the mare ploughed through it. Behind her she dragged her long ivory mane; a collection of knots and rough strands of hair, scoured by the salt of the sea she bathed in daily. They floated in the gold-sparkling winds like a flag. One that had seen better days, perhaps, but bleached as white as it could against the orange hues of their desert home. Like Merlin had his beard to store in his boundless knowledge, Maren had her mane. But, today, those winds came running into her face and she had to turn around to avoid the loess that would’ve undoubtedly found a way through her lashes and into her eyes. So, like that she changed her course, no longer leading to their temple of the divines, but to the oasis instead.
The ground here was harder and more flat than the dunes beside the sea, which gave a better overview of their feeding grounds. She noticed an unfamiliar stallion standing beside the basin. Is he waiting on someone? Now, this wasn’t such an usual thing, seeing a new face among her family. The stiger striped mare was many things already: Diviner, crafter, scholar… not to mention the Throat’s Official Unofficial (or was it Unofficial Official?) Water Patrol. She couldn’t also be a recruiter as well, that would be idiotic, not to mention how much her productivity would suffer. Even multi purposeful mares like me must have their standards., she mused in thought. Mr.Teatime, the Official Unofficial Water Patrol Floating Device, agreed. Anyhow, the point being; she did not know this guy and had no advantageous business knowing him, either.
But he was muscular and tall, and although he was new, the hues of his coat seemed to be dancing in a symphony with their land around him. Besides handsome, he seemed interesting, maybe even intelligent. Maren’s grey framed eyes were as silent as always when she decided that she wanted to approach this man. Perhaps she could sway him in a way that she could get him to join her apostles. Maybe he could even shine a light on the status quo and the sick bastard of a false god who named himself kaos that was hushing their land, or at least her mind, with worry.
New Sultan Volterra, it was Mr. Teatime’s thoughts that nudged against her awareness and made her look over her shoulder. She didn’t know the former Gladiators business with the bay stallion, but she was curious at his stance in his freshly acquired position. In a way, they were both new. Not at all worried she was interrupted something private, she joined them.
“Goodday.” The stoic currents of her voice crumbled from her lips in a rather foreign sounding way for being just two words (though she always says it like one). Mr. Teatime sat down beside the back hoof Maren had put on rest, swishing his tail against the sandy rocks. Maren’s burgundy shaded eyes wandered quietly from one to the other, but finally held still at the fresh face; called Reichenbach. Like always, she had many things she wished to say, to note, to disagree one (perhaps) or to conclude, but at the moment she was content and did wanted to interfere with his possible reply to the Sultan’s question. Not yet, anyway.
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