It had been too long since the stout essence had disappeared, and the worst of it was that it was not by choice. The war had been ongoing since her departure, yet she continued to yeild no word of its finish. Was it finished? Only time would tell. Meanwhile she stepped into a quiet lope, picking her way through the chrystaline sands, feeling its heat being devoured by unshod irons. Essence slid into the Royal terrain seemingly unseen, mirrors looking about for the one equine she knew. Would that one femora reconize the youth, for she now knew that she had changed greatly. No longer did she yeild long, spindily legs of a foal, but long, slender legs to which her body had grown. With the unseen slip into the Royals, a relieved sigh lay domesticated. Yet it was not over. If the war had continued on she was prepared to fight. I know I can do it.. Words continued to flash across her mind, stomach being trampled by herds of cattle, roaming free. What if Satan Kiss was no longer there.. What if she.. Words break as she continues to pick her way along the sands. To her mind she was a sign of hope, returning in the form of the grey clad arrow painted across her features.
