Tuesday, November 5, 2013

A Foreign Shore ~ Part 1

November washed up on the shore. She grasped onto the sand as if it were more precious than gold. Of course after thirty-two days lost at sea it was. The tide pushed her further onto the shore and she belly crawled to get out of the water. Her lips burned with every mouthful of salt water and she swore she would not endure it for one more minute.

Safely away from the tide, she lay on the warm sand for what felt like an eternity. Her mind wondered to her father and why he hadn’t helped her. Then she thought of her sister, June, who held the Mermaid’s Pearl and frequented the sea often. Why had she not heard her call? Had they all abandoned her?

She shook the thought away. Of course they hadn’t. June probably had no idea November was in trouble and her father, well … her father knew everything, so she must be here for a reason. It had taken centuries to learn to have complete faith in her father, but he always had a plan.

Closing her eyes, she steadied her breath, letting her body melt into the sand as she relaxed every muscle. Imagining a bright white light, she lay the image like a blanket over her body. She could feel the energy immediately as it rejuvenated her weak body. Then a sensation she wasn’t expecting, a hot snort of breath, right by her ear.

November opened one eye, only to see an eye much larger than her own. Opening her other she realized a tall black stallion was nuzzling her neck. “Where did you come from?” she asked.

November looked at the horse expecting an answer. She could talk to animals, all her sisters could. But the horse did not respond. November frowned and pushed herself into a sitting position. She caressed the horse’s head as she looked into his deep brown eyes.

“It’s okay,” she patted his neck. “I must be in the mortal world. It isn’t your fault you can’t speak.”

Using the horse’s strong neck to aide her, November stood up on wobbly legs. She studied her new friend. He was completely black except for a small spot on his shoulder. It was almost gold in color and reminded November of the warm stone of joy and optimism.

“Do you mind if I call you Citrine?” she asked.

The horse nodded.

“So where to now, Citrine?”

No sooner had she said it, a gang of warriors stormed the beach, spears high and surrounded November.

Citrine pushed November to where he was between her and the warriors. He stomped the ground and let out a loud snort. It was clear if they wanted November they would have to go through Citrine.

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