"One Day, I Shall Live By the Code of Honor."
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Normally, Laila would’ve been titillated with excitement and slight apprehension as she wandered so far from the salt-laced seaside that was her home. Her heart would’ve fluttered with the pure thrill of the adventure, making her way to charts unexplored, places unheard of; seeing with her own eyes the kind things her Father would weave into the stories he used to tell before she closed her eyes to sleep as a foaling. In truth, she did feel these things—tiny flitterings here, a burst of surprise and giddy joy there—but for the most part, the walk from the World’s Edge into the heart of the Helovian continent was a somber one, a pensive one, a march of quiet contemplation and escape from the dreary tides of Orangemoon.
The frost was beginning to settle upon her homeland; as balmy as the seaside tended to be, Laila did not miss the thinning chill that crept from the north; the sand that lost its blistering heat and replaced it instead with clammy coldness that packed on the inside of her hooves; the dry, arid wind that blew in the nighttime that chapped her lips. Some might find the coming winter a refreshing time of year—respite from the heat, perhaps—but for Laila, it only seemed to dampen her fiery spirits. Deep down, for a while now, Laila suspected herself a creature of fire, and this final standoff with the dying Orangemoon season served to cement her hypothesis. The filly simply hated the cold.
As such, the black acolyte found herself migrating further and further away from her homeland, seeking a warm hidey-hole to curl herself in and replenish her inner fire. However, more than ever, as her feet hit the ground and her own gait seemed to relax and lull her mind into a state of comfortable contemplation, Laila found herself thinking about her family. About her Father, of whom she had seen little of lately; of her brother Luken, that majestic brother of hers, of whom she had seen even less of. Perhaps her wanderings had been much too expansive lately—suppose Laila was spending too much time away from her blood relations because of her yearning for warmth and comfort? Every time these sorts of thoughts invaded her mind, a tiny ache settled in the pit of Laila’s chest, and it morphed into a solid block of guilt. She wasn’t trying to avoid their company—goodness knows she adored the men in her life with all of her heart, body, and soul—but it felt as though she was doing just that. Whenever this feeling entered her scrutiny, the shadow of the familiar shadow of shame threatened to darken her thoughts, and she would be forced to contemplate other, simpler, less-painful things.
Oh mother, Laila sighed desolately in her mind, noticing her surroundings for the first time; the trees were becoming scarce and bare, and her feet began to hit earth instead of grasses and shrubbery. What she felt first and foremost, however, was the powerful waves of heat that emanated from the dead-looking area, the winds enveloping her in a welcoming cocoon of energy and wellbeing. The faint tendrils of heat must have been what drew Laila to this place—the winds of the north dared not penetrate the realm, and for the first time in some months, the hard frost that had tried to settle in the pit of Laila’s stomach began to thaw once more. She truly felt herself.
But there was more. Along with the feeling of heat came a most recognizable scent, a scent that caused the ache in her chest to explode with feeling—Father? The husky scent was unmistakable.
It was as though a starting pistol had gone off in Laila’s head; immediately the filly broke out into an unrestrained gallop, following the scent trail to a T to find her Father. Through the mantra in her head—Daddy daddy daddy daddy—Laila supposed that her subconscious had managed to lead her towards her family, deep as her anguish was. But didn’t matter overmuch because daddy daddy daddy was here and Laila was going to see him again and--!!
Oh.
The air grew so much hotter and the world began to glow red, and as Laila’s Father came into view and her heart threatened to burst with joy, she slowed from her gallop to a tentative trot as another stranger came into view. A mare Laila cocked her ear in confusion, her brown eyes taking the sight of the unfamiliar face, just as she noticed glint of green glitter from her Father’s head. A headdress? A helmet? No….it was moving…
“….Father?” Laila called out, her voice hesitant even though it boomed forth with the strength of her throat. She slowed now to a walk, her steps cautious as she neared the black stallion, the black mare, and the strange creature that fluttered about. How much had Laila truly missed in her family’s life?
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