Zahra, Ilham, and Hanna

It was pride that turned angels into devils

Young, naïve, and apparently far lesser travelled than she had first presumed, Zahra could not help but be swept up by the wild beauty – the feral wilderness – which seemed to grow by the second around them. The sounds grew ever louder, nearer, like the rouge, ringing welcome of an early-bird meeting the dawn. The chorus in this dank region was far less cheerful, and not at all inviting – a loud and penetrating ’kee-ow’ stunned listening ears backwards, but the strangely rhythmic rattle of a frog nearby called them forward once again. So too was the stench startling and thin nostrils tasted it with a cautious wrinkle between; water, mould and the reek of those who had wandered through before, lay thickly upon the hardly moving air.
 
Zahra pressed nearer to the stallion’s warmth. He on the other hand, struck the film of ice keeping the pool at bay.
 
“Oh but Camon I-I… I like dry places too.” The scrawny filly blurted gullibly, entirely uninspired by the newest of his revelations despite her best efforts to remain gracious. “… And warm ones.” she mused further as an afterthought, remembering again that warm nest, snug beneath the rocky mountains great golden heart. He hurried her to drink, and the gilt-bellied child dipped her lips promptly to the biting cold water. She sucked through softly pursed lips and gulped hard the burning bubble that built in her throat. “Its horribly cold…” she murmured, more to the pale kitsune crouched to her side than any other – she could feel the fluid leak into her stomach like the prickle of gnawing bot-flies in summer.
 
Though Camon soon stepped aside, the foal remained to fill the void which solid matter seemed never to satisfy.
 
It was only as his nose plunged suddenly that Zahra pulled clear, and her small canine sister rumbled disconcertedly as she too withdrew swiftly. Together they watched (almost suspiciously), as he pulled free and dropped a small selection of things. “What’s that?” She queried, naturally interested in anything that snared the stallion’s. Neat toes dither forward towards the slumped leather as it took possession of the treasures, but Camon shot a glance by her which prompted a pause to her wondering. “Alright,” small tone answered quickly, and she turned to bump her white cheek against the puppy. She wasn’t that interested anyway…