Welcome to Gaia! ::

Meets-the-Sea had not quite figured out what sense it was that seemed to draw her towards those who needed her, but she hardly ever ignored its pull -- especially when, as now, she discovered a young doe at the other end of the metaphorical string. Living in the borderlands, where the dampness of the swamp began to shift into the great sand dunes, had given the mare a soft spot for acha, the nimble-hooved denizens of the desert that her mate, Walks Without Rhythm, felt so called to.

So it was with the barest hint of a private smile on her face that Meets came upon the doe, the transparent shadow of her crane form stepping delicately ahead of her as she moved, each footfall poised and purposeful. The acha, pacing, would see the crane first -- a pale ghost appearing against a backdrop of blowing sands.

The crane high-stepped toward the acha in time with the mare that followed, the fins on her head and tail folded closed to protect them from the heat and the sand of the borderlands. "It would seem so," Meets-the-Sea responded, stopping in front of the doe and nodding down to her, dark eyes glowing purple-black. She wondered about the 'we,' but said nothing -- Meets was usually spare with her words, and although it was perhaps not what the doe meant with her words, she certainly was carrying more than herself on those delicate hooves. "I hope you have not journeyed far, nor had to wait very long."