voices

The voice beckoned her on. Cold water lapped at Misha's waist as she walked deeper into the water, her fingers making little ripples at her sides.

the sky seemed to darken over head, and her breath came in shallow gasps; she should not be here.

And yet....

she could not resist.

a little deeper, a little farther- a small wave collided with her face, forcing her back and filling her throat.

"I can't do this. "

she stumbled back to shore coughing.

"Mimi?"

misha gasped and turned to see a small filly standing on the beach. "what are you doing , mimi?"

"I... nothing. " she tried to squeeze some of the water out of her red hair.

"you were walking in the ocean again! how could you? the elders warned you about this, it's too dangerous!" the filly stamped a hoof and tossed her mane. "you are impossible, mimi!'

"I'm sorry, Heather. I just can't help it. don't you ever wonder what is hiding over the waves?"

the young horse did not seem to listen to this question. she turned and started trotting back up the hill. "Heather, wait! you won't tell them, will you?"

the filly paused,and the grass made a quiet whispery noise against her legs. " not this time. although I really ought to. I can't imagine why you keep trying to hurt yourself like this; you'll drown one day. the water isn't even sweet, it's not good for anything."

"thank you, sister. "

"whatever, two-legs." the filly crested the hill and disappeared.

for as long as Misha could remember, she had been different from all the other herd members.

for one thing, her legs were fleshy and naked, and her front legs were impossible to walk on. she learned to balance on just two and walk upright, but this made her slower than her brothers and sisters. she had asked her mother many times why she was so malformed, but the old mare couldn't- or wouldn't- give any answer.

when she was very young, misha learned that she could not eat the same things as her family. the grass they loved was bitter to her, and she would most often go hunting for berries on her own. she also learned that her hearing and vision were not nearly as good as the other horses, and her feet were too soft for self defence. in other words, misha was disadvantaged in nearly every way. She lived with the knowledge that she would only ever be a burden to her family.

these thoughts circled through her head for the thousandth time as she made her slow way up the hill. still, she had no intention of dying. she somehow felt that there was more to the ocean than her family knew. perhaps she could learn something about herself, if she could uncover it's secrets.

the herd's nomadic tendencies meant that she only got close to the sea every few weeks at most, and during the winter, they would move inland for months. but Misha could always sense when they were close by. she could almost hear a voice, very soft and low, calling out to her over the horizon. was it the wind? was it fish in the depths? Or... as she felt deep down, was it a person calling out , looking for her?

what nonsense, she chastised herself.

nothing out there mattered. It was the solid ground, and the grass, and the animals of the island, that should hold her attention. The true meaning of life was to continue the circle. Have foals, grow old, and die. That was the mantra of the horse, and indeed, it was the mantra of all living things. Not that any stallion would have her. Nor did she have an interest in the stallions.

the voice of the sea called out to her again, deep and sad and lonely. Misha pushed her fingers in her ears.

"shut up."