Was it a dream?

[ashleigh04]

Her eyes fluttered open suddenly. Her legs ached, her muzzle felt dry, dusty sand clung like a fly to her rump. Her vision was slightly faulty for a second, then things became more visible... this place was familiar. Like she had been here before. The scent of fresh water and the sound of the waves gently lapping to the rocks brought back the memories. She was certainly back at the Sandy Beach.

Perhaps a knock to her head could have accured. She forgot where she had been. But she knew she had been somewhere... she knew she had been away from this beach for some time... whether it had been a day. week. month. year. Her reflection caused her to leap to her hooves. Where had the young palomino dainty young filly gone? It was replaced by a more rich colored, taller filly. Still not yet a mare. Was she the same horse?

[Hazel]

One two three, one two three, Storms hooves skimmed the sands eith ease, having lived upon the lands his hwole life. He trotted, head arched gracefully, banner billowing in the breeze and eyes half closed and doeful. He had been alone for some time, abandoned by the seas as they crashed over his lands. He had no idea where his loved ones where, or what had become of them. Letting a whinny escape his mug, the stallion slowed the a stop in the center of his lands. The sea was out and the stretch of sands upon the beach had increased. He smiled to himself, but it soon vanished. His eyes caught sigt of a disturbing image. A large ivory hued object. Long nose with four gaping holes, Storm backed away from the skull of Denizen. A disturbing sight, an omen, perhaps? He shook his head, telling himself silently that all was fine. The outlaws had been gone for ayears, and Denizens son, Soul, was all but changed, a new stag.

He turned away and spooted another shape upon the beach. Yet this was not so foreboding. He whinnied a greeting to the new mare, he didnt recognise her. Though her palomino pelt made him think of Summer. He trotted to greet her and was soon before the young mare, though he knew she was just an old filly, by the size of her legs and barrel. "Welcome, I am Flamed Storm, master of these lands. And may I ask who you are?" He asked with a smile and a flick of his ebonite banner. THe proud black stallion was tall and graceful, being of mustang and thoroughbred bloodlines.

[ashleigh04]

For a minute there she took no notice of the handome ebon' that stood a few feet from her. She was too busy taking in everything around her. How it looked so much different from her last visit. But something was not quite right about these lands... something had happened in her absence. Realising she could have been seen rude not to acknowledge the stags' presence she gained her sight and looked up. Much obliged to meet you Sir... I'm Belle. I live on these lands and had been adopted... but a horse led many of us foals a stray... It had all apparently came back to her. The memories of those dreadful nights sleeping on the cold, hardened stone floor, the drip drip of water tapping loudly onto the moss rimmed rocks. The grungy look easily telling horses to turn. But instead she had been forced to carry on. This memory would change her forever. She was no longer the forward foal she had been.

[Crow'sia]

SUMMER.one

Oh the shores. She had never really been there, perhaps once in her life, and then the mare had fled on a whim as if insanity had grasped her. As though someone had possessed her. And perhaps someone did, or something. How much of a family was destroyed that fateful day? Crow’sia sifted the sand beneath her, she was ankle deep and kicked it around playfully enjoying the cooling sensation is sent over her lower legs. She flicked her ears to and fro listening for the slightest little sound that would indicate another equine’s presence, and carefully smelled the air. Unfortunately all she got was a nose full of sand.

“For the love of spirts!” she snorted, hacking to clear her throat of the thin grains. The sand seemed darker than she remembered, and it was covered with odd debris. Crow’sia grinned and her eyes shifted quickly toward the ocean. There must have been a flood, for the idea seemed quite familiar. “They never get a break do they? Must be cursed!” The mare chuckled to herself, squinting her eyes to protect them from the glare that came off of the water. In a couple of seconds her feet disappeared again into the sand that matched her somewhat fawn pelt and she was at it again marching and skipping and bobbing down the beach.

It wasn’t long however until Crow’sia suddenly found her heart’s pace change, it became excited and erratic, and in a bit of a panic she stopped kicking around; she had almost destroyed a set of tracks. This was very significant for a few reasons. One was clear, she was looking for some kind of life wandering around, and the second was a deeper motive, she was looking for some sort of life that was familiar. Logic had told her to start with the Shores, for the painfully simple truth that at least here she might be recognized and here she might find someone to point her in the right direction. It was their modern history after all, even if it were a long shot. And now, hoof prints, quite fresh at that, told her hat if there had been a flood someone still resided here, someone had not fled forever. And she intended to find that someone.

Awkwardly picking up speed in the soft earth it took her a while to become accustomed to the terrain again. She had often wandered the beaches, not so far away, that were unclaimed by stallions and where few came looking to claim silly young mares. By now she could smell what was most certainly another horse, and then, another? This pleased her very much, the more the merrier. She peered ahead hard and too images become clearer and clearer as she approached, one considerably smaller than the other. And as she came closer and closer, the mare suddenly jumped having nearly tripped over a peculiar glistening object, bleached by the sun. Her ears dropped back and she skipped in a circle lowering her head to look at the object more closely. Why, it was a skull, how nice. She extended a hoof and kicked it gently. The object shifted sideways and fell back into place. “Hmm.” Turning away from it she made her way over to the other two just in time to hear their conversation begin.

Flamed Storm. Why was that familiar. Right.

[ashleigh04]

She had been aware something lurked behind for some time. But never bothered to look. Her muzzle dipped to the pools that skimmed against her stilts, her mouth engaged long until she brought up her tiara. Knocking back the water. After a second her tiara came crashing down, throttling half of it to the ground. Disgusting manners. Disgusting salt.

A slight breeze lifted her spirits. She felt it was time to get over the disaster and have a look around at her home, or what was left of it. She signed. Where was her sisters... untrue ones though. Her adoptive mother? She couldn't believe she had forgotten about them. How could she? She turned to the mare that stood behind, pools leapt to the skull. Twas' too old to be that of her family. She nudged it aside, out of sight. For a dead horse was a fear of hers. Looking back up at the mare she nudged her slightly. She needed to know this wasn't a dream. I'm Belle... nothing else would leave her mouth, her face wasn't lit but it was not full of misery, searching for something. And only now had she noticed just how hungry her stomach had left her. No grass was in place. A crap siddled along the soft sand, flicking up against the orange coat. How could she eat him? Not a meat eater she was.