It had been a long time since Figment of Imagination had left the desert, but he still sometimes ached for his home. For the whistling wind, the dry heat, the clatter of hooves on rock, or the shuffle of steps in sand. The feeling of warm sand rolling against his skin as he stretched was something he missed quite awfully, and there was nothing quite like it here. Some things he had found stand-ins for – the buzz of cicadas, or the way the wind blew differently through the trees, was enough to keep his ears satisfied sometimes. There were stretches of rock in the swamp as well, though they felt different on his hooves and legs than the ones back home – wet and sometimes slimy, not as warm and dry as he remembered unless he climbed to a higher stretch, which he sometimes wasn’t ready to do. He sometimes enjoyed rubbing up against the mangroves, or rolling in a bit of mud to even try to regain the feeling of home, but none of it worked. Nothing could compare to a warm pocket of sand.On days when he could hardly stand it anymore, he and Wanders With Roots would journey to the edges of the swamp, where soft, squishy mud and grass would begin to harden, clay and sand sneaking into the mixture below. There were a few spots where, if one listened closely, the wind would catch in such a way on the landscape beyond that it would almost sound like home. He had found it by accident one day, in his early explorations of the swamp, and he made sure to remember it carefully. When he had been gifted Wanders, he’d made sure that it was one of the first places he took her. He’d told her about their old home, though she’d been sniffing around and possibly sleeping for most of his reminiscing. Still, it meant something for him, and that was enough.
Today was another of the days he needed to feel close to his old home again. He loved the swamp, he did, but that didn’t keep him from missing what once was. Wanders was sniffing up ahead, keeping in good distance, checking in with the acha from time to time. He would give her an affectionate bump or nuzzle when he felt her near his leg, and she would be off a few steps ahead again in moments. He could tell that they were getting closer – just as he’d felt the moisture creeping in when he’d first come to the swamp, he could feel when it tapered as he neared the swamp’s edges. He was excited to feel a dryer sun shine upon him soon. He sniffed at the air, lighter with each step, and gave a quiet smile.
