Schooled addiction has me instinctively following the old signs of migration. THOUGH even for a gypsy child, this constant traveling is beginning to play negatively on my mood and most certainly these tiring joints -- THOUGH despite everything, I've pressed forward. This soul is spurred by anxiety, or rather a sense of unshakable forlorn; I sense that my strange (downright unnatural) adventures in this land are only the first of many to come. Aching knees and sore feet only remind me to be grateful for a young body that can accommodate this toil and my overwhelming earnestness for...the lovely surprises that lie ahead.

Much like a roughly tossed tumbleweed; I've already drifted from those vine covered trees and misty pools.

Far away from those pale trunks, with their highly unusual canopy; the rolling plains of thistle and fig that lie adjacent to the mystical groves. Further still from the overgrown forest that I'd stumbled into weeks ago. Today, I'm caressed by a continuous southern current; destined for warmer tides -- and I can think of no better way to spend the winter, than to be tucked beside the coast. A day passes, my energy wanes, so I sleep on the trail between flying intervals. Soon the salt air grows thick enough to taste and these sensitive ears pick up the faintest call of a hungry gull.

I smile into the wind, all those tiring miles seem worth the pain if only so this soul can behold brilliance. Grassy dunes covered in sunbleached thorn bushes, they eventually thin and stretch to a clear section of alabaster beach. Beyond them is a timeless gem, an awesome sapphire burning up the horizon. Her girth so large it might one day swallow the world. But not today. A delightful laugh is caught by whooshing air, the warmth of a midmorning sun has spread those blessed rays to leave kisses along the lean curve of my spine and between hollow pinions. These lungs expand forcefully, inhaling deep those rich aquatic scents.

As the continuous sweeping noise grows louder by the moment, my energy levels spike and dampened spirits rise. These wings carry me forward with hard, even thrusts. Down, and straining up; rinse and repeat. My serpentine tail has been pulled taunt by the wind, it snaps like a whip. Everything seems perfect...but there was no escaping, or forgetting that around me is an opposing torrent that swims in the opposite direction of the natural wind.

It's just as constant as the tide and strongly more annoying. I still haven't been able to figure out how to turn it off -- or take it off for that matter. Those weightless beads did their giddy little spin, floating a good inch or so from my hide and each other. Over the past week I've been forced to grown accustomed to living within a tornado, a bubble. Maybe one day the cyclone would simply blow itself out. Maybe.

Leaning right, I make tight circles above a clear section of beach; checking, double checking for signs of travel. Seems vacant enough. With a sigh of relief these feathers draw themselves together and like a stone this frame unceremoniously heads for the ground. Hindquarters tilt me back about thirty or so feet from the surface -- both appendages are working, back peddling to drop their bulky shelf upon the spongy surf. All aquatic life has surely scuttled away from their noisy visitor. I plunge into the sea feet first, sending up quite a splash. Foamy water hits my knees, the briskest therapy known to horsekind. A shot of raw pleasure and shock races through my system, until every fiber is sent tingling.

Without bothering to settle or close either ruffled plumage, these limbs slosh deeper until the tip of my belly is cooling with every wavestroke. Towering mounds lay a hundred or so feet from the water; many are covered with snarly weeds that favored this salt life. The tideline is littered with row upon row of seaweed and old shells. A group of gulls swim above, their bluegrey feathers and streamline bodies reminded me of fish slicing through a stream. They yipped, making quite the ruckus, obviously annoyed by something. Surely not me.

I had been spending more and more time alone because I still had been unable to find Ryuu and I still hadn't gone to look for Cera. Actually ... the longer I spent alone the happier I was. No, happier isn't exactly the word that I should use. I was more content, I suppose. I was able to cope witht he shit-storm that had become my life a little better. I guess it was petty of me, but it helped not having to be face to face with horses that were able to smile so readily and laugh so freely. I was so consumed with just wanting to be alone that I left the Throat again and wandered. It had been a few days (maybe a week) and, really, everything was just a blur of changing landscapes. I couldn't even remember if I had flown or walked the whole way, but I was tired because I still hadn't been sleeping much and my body was sore from the travelling.

It was the crashing waves and the smell of salt on the air that made me realize that I had made it all the way to the beach. I had traveled clear across Helovia and it was nothing but a blur and I suppose it was a bit shocking to me. I couldn't seem to shake myself out of the depression that I had fallen into and there were a few points where I wondered if I even wanted to. It seemed like every time I started to feel better something bad would happen. I fought with Cera, Hototo died, my dad died, Ryuu disappeared .... I just ... I don't know. I guess sometimes I figured that if I stayed as low as I was I couldn't get knocked back down again.

I crested a dune and slid down the other side of it, my wings extended so that I could keep my balance and not fall, because chances were if I fell I would probably just lay there until I fell asleep. As I got to more stable footing I folded my wings back against my side and stood looking out at the ocean. I had no bad memories on the beach. In fact one of my best memories was finding Ryuu there and bringing him home to take care of him. But I couldn't find it in myself to even crack a smile. I just didn't have the energy or even the drive to.

My hooves dragged through the sand as I walked toward the surf, my intention based purely on cooling myself after such a long and arduous journey. It was as I was walking toward the ocean that I became aware of another horse in the water and I stopped. I considered turning and leaving, but the pull of the ocean and the chance to cool myself off was too great and I pushed forward. The salt water swirled around my legs and the waves tapped against my knees when I finally stopped. I turned my head and glanced over at the other hybrid (look at that) and nodded. "Hello."

"."

@[Camon]

It was to much to ask for these beautiful lands to be vacant; it wasn't long before someone breasted a nearby dune. The appearance of this stranger in this bright world isn't enough (at first) to catch my notice -- I figure once the rogue saw this section of shore occupied, he or she would move on. The stranger is balanced upon a sandy mound; and instead of turning back, he begins sliding, weaving down to the beachside. A irritable groan slides up my throat and into the breezy air, gems swivel to gaze at the travel worn stranger with anno-...intrigue. That dude was no dude at all, it certainly was a she; no man could wear such breathless curves. Those distant eyes rise to mine and the girl comes to a solid halt.

Run, run as fast as you can.

Apparently my appearance isn't horrific enough to deter, because she didn't turn that gilden weapon left or right -- her smothering limbs press forward, coming toward me into the foamy surf. Anticipation skips this heart like a pebble bouncing along the bumpy surface of the river; those worn eyes avert, a part of me tries to do the polite thing and also stray -- however, mine remain glued. She didn't stop coming and I couldn't stop staring. Her silken hide, slick with with sweat and dust; the sun caught every plush angle. Perfection wrapped up in a tight package. Everything about this woman radiated sunlight, a large portion of her wings, legs and face are molten -- crafted exquisitely. Shimmering gold.

The tiniest smirk drifts across these dull grey lips -- my creamy crown slides down, arching the youthful span of my neck. Nostrils flare, scenting deeply the air in an effort to pluck her essence from the tart salt. Musical vocals reach these ears, her soft and simple greeting is more than enough encouragement to lure this adolescent heart into action. I push against the dragging tide, the salty waves lap against my bare chest and dampen the tangled threads which hang low. For a precious moment, I've forgotten my latest annoyance, which circles even now -- beneath the surface and all around me. Those silvery beads are pale against my flesh, they spin, always in constant motion.

"Hi," the sway of my voice is even, but spoken at the deepest baritone possible. These eyes had been busy tracing the outline of each pectoral muscle and beyond, now they openly drift to find her gaze; though noticeably both lids widen when the opposing color is noticed...red eyes? Like a sunset, or fire in the treetops, or a harvest moon. Or blood. "Your eyes are really red," it wasn't meant to be cynical; merely an observation. These shoulders roll casually, "Very lovely, exotic," irises burn a subtle trail along the slim line of her neck -- and I wonder, absently, what the skin would feel like beneath my lips. Would the musk of salt give way to her true fragrance? A handsome smile climbs affront, "I'm Camon."

Thank goodness for mothers with admirable bloodlines. With a openly unmasked stare I willingly trace the wet outline of those sunburst lips; it hadn't gone missed how those tiny muscles tightened just a little bit upon my approach. Yet now they are forced mirror my handsome beam with what I guess is a lie, a forced smile. It eventually crosses my mind as an afterthought that this vixen might want to be left alone, but if that was the case -- why oh why had she strolled into my section of paradise? Why not turn away when the chance was given?

It soon became apparent that those ruby eyes are being lured by that annoyance I'd almost forgotten about. The swirling wind that was my continual companion; one pride sore ear flicks back sadly. Sure enough, the lovely creature asks a question regarding it, my shoulders roll beneath the creamy coat they wore, "I have no idea," which was true. Both bows narrow and draw together wordlessly as I follow the structure of her face before settling upon Ranjiri's gaze, "Found it on the road almost a month ago -- hasn't stopped doing this since..." A memorable frown wrinkles my face, "It's an acquired taste for sure, sleeping was tricky for the first two weeks."

Let's get back to the important stuff. After all, she didn't look like an acquired taste. This Ranjiri, looked down right consumable -- but her gilden horn stands between us as effectively as my bubble. I bend on antlered crown to the left, the sweet sound of my ornaments twinkle their notes. Heaven's brilliant orb above catches their silvery color. "I've never had anyone try to touch it," flirtation is coming easy in the heat and salt, even a broad coltish smile plays upon each high corner, "Your welcome to try." Come closer. I don't bite, hard. One lid slides into a wink, playing upon youth for all my worth. Even an antisocial bum can appricate the art that was a gorgeous woman -- and oh, how this body wanted to press against her feathered side; groom back those ebony hollows and watch those scarlet gems grow dark with a mutual desire. To touch a stranger and be touched.

This poorly concocted ploy to have a little adult fun isn't working for one of us. My gorgeous partner appears less than excited by harmless flirtation. Eh, which isn't so surprising. Though, it was a shock that Ranjiri hadn't run off yet. Smoothly I brush off her casual (awkward) politeness with enough fake ego to fill the silence between us. Here we are...still standing in my self proclaimed section of ocean. Amusement bounces across the rippling surface to follow her ruby eyes across the way. Two sets of orbs land with very different reactions toward what stood on the nearby shore. Almost instantly I feel the coltish grin on my face stiffen to stone, these creamy ears run a race in reverse and the amber tendrils swaying beneath the salty waves curl their path around my right leg.

For a single heartbeat I'm fooled into rational thinking -- the hard lines of my face momentarily soften, "Must have been some driftwood...that somehow was set aflame." But its not JUST fire. That semitransparent sunburst was in the shape of a large cat. One who stood just beyond certain death and our salvation. Its smothering look might have been nonthreatening, even friendly; but to a gypsy soul who came to this desolate place to sink teeth into something normal. Those depthless eyes slice and dice my false security. With considerable effort and nothing short of a fucking miracle my attention returns to the gilden filly and her polite (unconcerned remarks.) What stuck my nerve was how unattached she sounded -- as if a tiny, insignificant crab had just scuttled across the beach. Instead of a huge FIRE cat!

Where we not seeing the same thing??

A moment ago (when it was just us) these chilled lips might have parted with an amused remark to her hesitation, "Maybe later then," or, " ;) "

Nope.

Instead my tone softens into one that passes as only heavily distracted, "I don't know." Brows narrow, "Don't know the name of that place or this," one eye jerks to the shore to see if the feline was still there. Ranjiri's beauty has already lost appeal; I willingly take a step back -- relishing not the pleasure of her company but the cool pressure of an undertow and its comforting fire destroying presence."Guess it doesn't matter really," memories take a sharp turn to my first unusual occurrence, the weird little vixen who made bat lizards out of earth and water...the girl had also had legs coated in dirt and vines. "Do you see that?" Please say yes. Please say no. Muzzle gestures to the shore, my gems return to the blood freshly stung, which made them appear all the more jerky.

Fire. Maybe I should've played it off as an illusion. Ignored it...but how could something like that be unseen? The ridiculous notion already has me regretting my question. If Ranjiri couldn't see -- regret wouldn't buy words or refund my time. Anxious judgment narrows upon her formulating expression; this heart has already set itself up to expect a look of momentary confusion. That was the most natural response IF this company can't witness what these gems have beheld (and are still beholding). Another expectation (one secretly more desired) was a bland look of conviction; the same bored stare that Miss Special had given me months ago. From experience, I've found that people are unsympathetic when ignorance strikes against beliefs or inborn talents. Maybe, if she was feeling particularly kind -- I'd get a glare of child-size amusement; perhaps even sympathy.

Neither occur. Instead the moist glisten of those lips lift not in bewilderment or amusement, they shockingly spread to cackle and snort. I stiffen, further put off and truly unsure of what is worth the price of laughter. A few minutes ago my expression would've mirrored the girl for whatever reason -- lured by beauty, by the swell of her foal baring hips. Appearance alone would've been enough to convince a few false loon like giggles. These flat ears might've enjoyed the rare music we made, seagrass pools could've drowned in that heart pounding way those gilden tips swell to reflect genuine humor in her eyes. Sadly, I'd missed the joke entirely.

Ranjiri heaved while I stood by in stoic silence -- it wasn't unexpected or at this point even considered lightly rude that a noticeable frown had deepened along these lips. My molars did begin to grind by the time she'd regains control and answers me -- "Great..." that word was a mutter, hardly audible over the crashing waves. It didn't matter, it wasn't like my opinion held water. No pun intended. Harmless. One brow rose in disbelief, softening anxiety and fear. For the first time in a long while I felt a sarcastic chuckle flit up before a leash could be set. "Won't take my chances. Can't say I like fire," a gruff snort follows a hard swallow. "Or this conversation..." Why did all the pretty faces have to be weird? Endless Blue, "Perhaps I'll find out if it has an end." Ranjiri had turned away, it is very likely she couldn't hear me.

The cat girl steps from our cold ocean paradise and begins to move toward the shoreline. In any other circumstance I might've casually followed her swaying gait all the way out -- but...nope. Not today. Her crown pivots to look back, my gems settle on that crimson stare openly, though instead of bidding our conversation farewell (as thought) she poses a new question. One that didn't have an easy answer. When in doubt settle for vagueness, "Lots of places," if she kept moving away the distance was going to force me to start shouting above the waves... or follow to be heard. "Didn't know those names either." I'm not the most helpful person in the world... Words come softly, hardly audible, "Haven't stayed long enough in one place."