Thalia’s GPS told us we were on BLM land, and her maps showed no towns or inhabitants for miles. We resigned ourselves to a long walk, and we began to worry about water, for MouthBreather and for me. We found some ruts made by off-road vehicles, and followed them. We trudged on in the unbearable heat, one foot in front of the other.
Melpomene suddenly held up a hand, stopping us in our tracks. We saw some shapes in the distance, approaching us in a low cloud of dust. We had no weapons, but Melpomene and I needed none. The fire that burns at the core of all life was burning in us - vengeance and righteous retribution were all we lived for.
But as the shapes came nearer they resolved into a small herd of wild horses, which commonly roam the BLM desert in Nevada. The leader was a splendid bay roan, jet black mane and tail. A stallion, he was rife with live steam, and Thalia was going wild. The pipsqueak voice of the laptop said “I can feel her presence. She is magnificent.”
I pointed the webcam of the laptop towards the herd. “Thalia, zoom in on the entrejambe.” On Shaula, she was something of a bigot when it came to pricks, so I was sure that the roan’s procreative tool would cool her ardor.
But she said “I don’t care if he’s a wharf rat; I am burning in his presence. He has a firebox in his heart.” The roan walked right up to me and put his muzzle against my chest. Then he muzzled the laptop, as if he found some affinity.
I said, “Guys, we’ve got a ride.” The horses allowed us to mount them, bareback. With Thalia in the satchel, I was on the bay roan, Melpomene on a sorrel, and MouthBreather on the back of an unconvinced pinto.
MouthBreather asked “Why does he keep looking at me?”
“Speak to him, but without words, and he will know you and trust you,” Melpomene advised, just pissing in the wind.
The horses agreed to take us to water, and to civilization, so we set off at a canter. Mother Sun was shining in the depthless blue sky, I was at one with the roan, and I felt the bond of steam growing between us.
Just as the sun reached full noon, I felt Thalia projecting out from the laptop, making subdural contact with the stallion. Before I knew what was happening, she had leaped across the divide, and taken residence in the bay roan. This was not an aggressive act - the roan stallion had welcomed her. Their minds and spirits melted together and formed one being.
At that moment, Thalia became the first prick princess in my court.