The light woke her first, pressing against her closed eyelids and turning the view pale pink. Opening them was an experience of pain and white. Ah yes, she thought bitterly. This is why I left the desert.When she had mostly adjusted to the blinding light, her thick eyelashes helping, she let her mind think a moment. No, she didn't just have a hangover, nor was she so drunk that she was hallucinating: She was back in her homeland. This was a nostalgic experience. Heartache surged in her, part homesickness and part anger/sadness/grief. Had all her hard work been for nothing? It was a thought that stuck her sometimes when she was most sober. It overwhelmed her now. She resisted the urge to give in to it.
"Alright, old girl," she muttered to herself, and found her throat parched. "Time to get your hooves under you."
This took some doing. Sand shifted under her, and it took a few minutes to remember how to move in it. Once upright, she scented the air and trotted up the dune to the top. She gasped. It was not the bright sand stretching forever that shocked her, but the tower interrupting it all like a wicked thorn thrust up from the earth.
Locals all had different names for it; she best knew it as the blood tower. When she had been small, her friends would tell dark tales about sacrifices there, to scare each other. An echo of those sinister words wiggled down her spine and stiffed her tail, the tuft puffing out wildly. The reaction died. She felt chilled despite the heat that rolled easily off her back in waves. She didn't want to go down there, but she knew there to be at least a small spring near the base of the tower, so it was the best option.
She heaved a sigh, the sound noisy to her, and she started down the dune. Birds passed overhead, giving off cheerful calls, so that when she reached the bottom she was starting to feel better. Whatever shenanigans had brought her here, she had decided to explore them when they showed themselves. After all, she'd walked herself out of the desert once, she could do it again. The wine could wait.
It took some time to reach the tower. It was massive, and viewing it from far away could be deceiving. When she reached the drifts of sand around it, she began to circle until she reached its lee. There it got rocky, her hooves wringing sharp sounds from the surface. Around more, and the smell of water grew stronger. Little plants crept out of the cracks, a proliferation that exponentially expanded into a riot of life. Small, hardy trees, grasses and bushes, and some plants bearing fruit were but a small portion of what she noticed as she took the little trail into its heart and sank gratefully to the rocky banks where she could drink. The colorful birds watched her from the other end of the mysteriously clear pool, then began to chatter again.
Once she had sated her thirst and hunger, she turned to the tower. Funny, how its coloring looked in places so close to her own. It was an amusing thought, and struck her with a gentle feeling of destiny. She couldn't decide if it was a feeling from the fathermother, or purely selfish aggrandizement on her part. She was known to feel both.
She sighed again and chose a shady place to lay out. Perhaps something would reveal itself, but in the meantime she was going to plan.
