The seahorse turned, webbed hooves biting into the warm sand as she continued to drag the large vertebra—“WHOA!” Again, the seahorse’s head whipped towards the sound and her fins flared in warning and surprise. It was not often that others could sneak up on the Akvian, but she was so exhausted that all her senses were dulled.
The lack of completed sentences and accompanying shock at her appearance should not have surprised Aquila any longer. However, in her drained and stilted state, she roughly finished the boy’s speechless sentences, “I am Akvian,” was her proud and gruff correction. “And you should help,” with a intense look to the boy, she began to continue dragging her bones towards Kis.
A rough snort of derision pushed out of her nostrils at the shock and awe of asking and sharing gods-blood between the glowing colt (—glowing? how was that possible?—) and electrical mare. “Not trust gods,” was her muffled grunt around the bone she pulled with her teeth.
Aquila came from a Rift, where greedy gods preyed on mortals and ruined civilizations. Any relation to such ‘divine’ beings was nothing but trouble, in her book.
fierce, wild, and free
@Mathèo!