Welcome to Gaia! ::

The sea was cool against his legs. The gentle lap and pull of the current enchanted, slyly beckoning Race deeper into the sea. He had no doubt that one day he would become a part of that wild beauty. Even though today was not that day, the eventuality thrilled him. Goose bumps of pleasure raced across his skin. Race tossed his mane and neighed out towards the waves. Small silver fish startled and danced near his hooves.

The leviathans were not singing today, but he waited and watched anyway, hoping for one glimpse. Some might say he was wasting his time, but really, wasn't all time wasted? The concept of wasted or lived-well were rejected by Race. The life lived did not matter as much as some might think. The sea would one day rise and take each stallion and mare to it's cold and endless depths.

The herd knew where to find him, where the rocky sands met the inexorable sea. Race was their counselor, leader, a shaman. They sought him out for his advice and he put aside his cynical nature to feed their hopes and dreams. But, right now, he felt small, only a stallion dwarfed by the sounding sea.

Race would know that tattoo of hoof beats anywhere. Sand Dancer flew, her chocolaty mane as wild as her eyes. He waited as she plunged into the sea. When the mountains thundered through her, it was like she was blind. Her gift was still fledgling and he worried. What would happen to his childhood friend if her gift, her curse, continued to grow?

Whinnying when her splash water hit him square in the chest, he splashed out to her side. Companionably, he leaned against her; Sand Dancer's hot coat contrasted sharply with his sea-cooled hide. "Hello, my old friend. What happened? You only seek the sea when angry."

Slowly, minute by minute, he felt her muscles relax, the power draining out of her into the sea. Race huffed against her neck, his breath teasing strands of her mane upwards. The near-quaver in her voice made him ache inside. He wished he had answers, but he was a stallion of words and unknown.

"I know, Sand." He sighed. "We can't explain our birth winds. If I could, I would take this gift from you. Words are just words, but I think one day, it might be your fate to grow stronger, to control your gift even as it controls you. You may protect us all." Race's eyes were focused somewhere faraway, out at sea. Abruptly, he slanted them at her and chuckled softly. "There is no other mare I would rather have at my back."

Race wished he had more words, more assurances, something to help her. But everything was as constant yet unpredictable as the sea and, in the ways of gifts and predictions of the future, he knew nothing.

He almost laughed aloud at her teasing quip. "as if there could be any other than you." Race's voice was warm and filled with amusement. There was something truly comforting and right about the way she leaned on him. He sighed contentedly. If he could be her rock, her touchstone; he hoped he could always bring her down from berserk. Sand Dancer and the sea were his favorite things. There were the only things he would always care for.

But her next words made Race want to shout, to shove, to flip and around and stare into her cool blue eyes until she believed him. She would never hurt someone! He hesitated. Sand Dancer's fears were not unfounded. And yet, Race knew he could never fear her.

"Have you tried to summon the power on your own? Here, with only the sea and I for company? We can work on mastering this together." He turned his head and lipped her as well, answering her playful n** from before. "You're stronger than this, filly girl. You will control it. I believe in you."

Race wished the sea dispensed answers as easily as waves. But that was a part of the great glory of the sea, he mused: the mystery, the unknown. "I doubt you are alone in this. The mountains are hard and unyielding. They are not a kind master." His voice rose and fell, unconsciously mimicking the cadence of the sea that surrounded them. "There are tales of reckless berserkers who live in the north, who fear nothing and use the mountains as playgrounds. I refuse to believe none of them are like you."

The sea lapped at her, swirled around him. Her eyes, cooled into gentler pools, watched the sea. His eyes watched her. Such a stoic and serious mare. Uncharacteristically, he wished Sand Dancer could laugh more. "Just tell me how I can help. I will do anything in my power, my lady." Race made a silly bow and almost lost his balance.

Splash. That last bump had done it. An already off-balance Race toppled over into the sea. He surged upwards, powerful muscles dripping. "Sand Dancer! That was mean, you awful mare." But he was laughing and he dipped his head and swung it up forcefully, flinging a wave of of water from his mane over her withers.

Not satisfied with that, Race danced around her, trying to look for some opening to topple her. It felt good to be just playing with his friend. Race did not play often; his only pursuits of pleasure in the less-than-innocent flings with visiting mares. He neighed at Sand Dancer. She probably knew him better than anyone.

Oh, Race certainly couldn't ignore such a tempting challenge! He reared in acceptance, dark hooves flashing through arcs of water. How long had it been since he had just played a game? Sand Dancer made him feel like a foal again, light-hearted and silly and empty of brain.

"Oh, I'll take you down, Sand." His eyes glinted mischievously, dangerously intent. "Never underestimate me!" On the last word, he lunged forward, trying desperately to heave his own body against hers. Maybe the suddenness of his movement would give him an advantage against the lithe mare.

Race neighed gently, a chuckle of amusement. "Your name fits you as well: nimble as a dancer." He shivered a little as they Todd in the water. He shivered again when she tugged his mane. Humor lit his eyes as her next question. "Hah! They all want me because I am clearly a debonair, exceptional stallion." Race's voice was warm with suppressed laughter. He winked at her.

Sand Dancer was one of the few he could easily talk and joke and just be with. "How about you?" He blew at the ends of her mane. "You have all these stallions after you; what's your secret?" Although, looking at her, Race could see why Sand Dancer had no trouble attracting any male.