Why was she out here again? The question ghosted through Phoebe's thoughts for a third time as she trekked across the sandy eastern territory, beneath the sweltering rays of the summer sun that shone completely unhindered in the bright blue skies that spanned the entirety of the heavens. The sands below seemed ready to drag her into them, her purple hooves sinking with each new step, while the heat threatened to melt her into it from above, the combined effort making the sunset mare feel tired and gross. Wasn't it enough that she'd had to pass through the mountains to get here, with all its winding trails and precarious paths? Now she had to sweat just from the exertion of walking? No wonder the soldiers out here are stronger...Ah, yes. That was why she was here. The Day Court's famed soldiers. Word had finally gotten around to her about this widely know, highly talked about army that the desert boasted of--and now that she was here, she understood why. It took a very special sort to call this place home, let alone to train and strengthen oneself beneath the sun and upon these challenging sands. She wasn't sure she could imagine doing that with any regularity--wasn't entirely sure she wanted to--and yet there was some part of her that did. Not because she enjoyed sweating or feeling exhausted or sore after a good workout--in fact, it was all very tiring and uncomfortable, even for days afterward. But it was a step in the right direction for her, further progress toward making herself into the soldier she had always longed to be. It was, to her mind, a necessary evil.
Though maybe she should have enlisted company. It was becoming more difficult to push herself into continuing onward, the constant press of the sunlight whittling away at her resolve. Her head turned and she glanced wistfully over one shoulder toward the mountains behind her, so far away now that they would prove just as challenging on the return trip. Phoebe sighed, almost whined, as she finally stopped and took a second to take stock of what was around her through a tired, disappointed expression. Surely there must have been respite here somewhere? It couldn't all be sand, sand, and more sand, right? The Day Court wouldn't just choose to live in an empty, barren--
There! That wasn't sand. Even at a distance Phoebe could recognize the hard lines of stone, the faint hints of green sprouting from it, and with perked ears and a hopeful heart she stumbled forward through the sand toward it, her gait hurried until she stepped out of the sand and onto sturdy, reliable rock. An audible sigh escaped her as she stood steadily for the first time since arriving in the desert, and though she wanted nothing more than to rest beside the rock face, the sound of tumbling water was a greater temptation. Hooves clicking upon the stone, she walked toward the source, hardly paying attention to the surroundings as she imagined how cool and refreshing the drink from the waters would be.
Reaching the waterfall, Phoebe glanced toward it--and immediately did a double take. She wasn't the only one taking respite here at this rocky oasis. Another already stood in the basin of the waterfall, slicked over completely and surrounded by a sudsy residue from an in-progress bath. He stood out starkly against the sparkling blue water, the pale cream of the stone, a dark void that drew all eyes toward him, though his beautifully cut physique would have been more than enough to catch anyone's attention. It was impossible not to follow the gentle wave of his damp mane, or to admire the planes of his restful face, so at peace and full of contentment. He was absolutely gorgeous, a godlike creature bathing within a small slice of heaven in an otherwise empty world.
...and she was staring. Gods, how long had she been staring? All at once, Phoebe became hyper aware of her surroundings, her own slack-jawed expression, and a surge of nervous energy flew through her. Oh no, what must she have looked like, after scaling the central mountains and then traipsing under the desert sun? A mess, surely! Part of her wanted nothing more than the stone beneath her to swallow her up before the Adonis in the bath realized she was there, but any sort of retreat would surely draw his eye--there was no escape. Struggling for composure, for confidence, Phoebe cleared her throat below her breath and mustered a charming smile, hoping beyond hope to somehow salvage the situation. "Hi," she called out in a chipper greeting, praying she didn't look as gross--or nervous--as she felt, "I'm sorry to interrupt. Um..."
Oh gods, what had she intended to say?
