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S A O I R S E
The boy was returning to his little nest that morning. The one where he and his mother had taken for shelter and reprieve at most times - underneath palm and surrounded by hardy, scraggly bush. It vaguely held her scent in the softened bedding nearest to the palm’s bases, made of dried desert grass, of cotton fluffs, and pieces of discarded feather.
He pushed through the bushes, and stiffened at the sight of the leather bag placed in the center. His heart thrummed heavily in his ears, as he inhaled the air for the newer, possibly brighter smell of his mother. But as his curious nose led him closer to the parcel, there was no scent he could discern from its appearance.
Saoirse trailed his muzzle across the engravings, and flipped the flap back to investigate its insides. Empty.
“Mom?” He shot his head up – just tall enough to breach the bushes. He swept his gaze about. Trying very hard to resist the urge to leak from his eyes, or for his voice to crack and surrender to the lurch, and pull tearing his heart a part.
Eventually this feeling left him. Sending his mind and thoughts to the bag instead. He tried his best to slip the thing on. But after numerous attempts and failures, Saoirse huffed out in frustration – halting his efforts. An extra pair of teeth and lips might do the trick.
Without avail, he grabbed the leathery treasure by one of its straps, and bounced off to find one of his herd mates. Surely, there might be a few scattered throughout the lands?
The boy stopped near a hill – the tallest he could find in the area. While the sun was about and rising faster, and higher into the sky – the pregnant bellies of cloud, and heavy rainfall drew nearer. Drawing with them, the smell of dust and rich with moisture.
A momentary breeze ruffled past the colt’s feathers. Supplicating the raw desire for his mother's muzzle, with brief and wishful thinking.
ooc: for @Iskra XO
