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When Waters Recede let out a sigh. Autumn. A season of change; a season that could bring those endless rains and rushing waters back again. Four years had passed and she still felt the need to run, to race, to climb, to find solid unwatered ground. It was a terribly lonely life.

The young ones did not understand the need. The kimeti languished behind in races. Zikwa stumbled like newborns while totoma stood solid in their belief that they could not be moved. The acha at least could move even if they laughed at her trauma. Even so she had yet to meet one kin that could keep up with her.

Lonely Only was a wanderer, a nomad, a kin who could not find one place to take root. It was not that he disliked the swamp, or the plains, or the dark, dank caves, or the bitter cold mountains. Alright he might possibly dislike the mountains, if only because of the sparse food and harsh climes especially for one meant for arid deserts. But no, it wasn’t so much as his environment that had the acha moving at a quick pace through the swamp.

He’d felt it again. That odd pang that he was being left behind and he needed to follow after them. Them who? He, well, he wasn’t sure. It was just always there in the back of his mind that he could not afford to sit still, to stay so stationary in one den for too long, lest he be alone until the end of his days.

So it was to a great relief that he espied movement in the distance. Even if it was a fierce predator, Lonely would have been grateful for any sort of company.

“I say, I say, hello!” he called out, the gait of his trot quickening to a canter.

The doe's ears flickered as she lifted her head up. The voice was far off and she had to squint her eyes to attempt making out a figure. It began as a flash of white; one that grew and stretched until it became an acha. One that was moving fast. Curiosity flared hot and sudden as he became clear and close.

"Hello," she called out at length. The voice that came from her was hoarse from disuse. It had been a long time since she had conversed with kin beyond a grunt of severe disappointment when another kin fell behind.

The voice that reached Lonely’s ears was not hostile and he brightened as much as he picked up his pace. His spirits had lifted at the prospect of finding company and keeping the spirit-draining loneliness at bay. When he reached the dark-colored kio, Lonely was barely breathing hard, his tail swaying excitedly behind him.

“Yes! Hello! I almost didn’t see you,” he laughed happily, unaware if his words could be misconstrued as insulting or appraising. “I say, I didn’t expect to find anyone here of all places.” He seemed to be dancing in place, all nervous energy trying to be contained. Without giving the other kin to speak, the acha plunged on, “I’m Lonely Only, pleased to make your acquaintance. Are you out hunting? I’m so sorry if I’ve driven your quarry away!”

If she thought he had been moving fast before, it was nothing as the acha increased his -- yes, she could see his horns clearly now -- speed. Years of kin who were either vastly out of shape or unaccustomed to running made her doubt he would have the ability to move when he reached her. She could see it already, this kin of black and white haggard and huffing, as his mouth gasped for air and his limbs wobbled. He would flop to the ground and she'd rolled her eyes at his pathetic endurance. She'd seen it before, would see it again, but as she readied herself for the disappointment, she found it was unneeded. He was far from spent.

Of course she was hard to see; herself a plain kiokote who may have provided a splash of colorness in the yellow-gold of the plains was rarely worth a second glance in the brown-green-gray of the swamp. She couldn't fault him for it. At least he had seen her at some point. Although why there shouldn't be someone to be seen here...

"No quarry to be lost," she replied, the rasp less pronounced. "When Waters Recede is my name and I was--" she paused. What was she doing? A wry smile, "Brooding that everyone is slow." A drop of sarcasm laced her voice as her lips pulled back into a smile.

Lonely’s laughter echoed across the swamp, warm and relieved and just outright happy even if he didn’t quite understand what the kio doe meant by her words. He hadn’t ruined her hunt or upset her into leaving in a huff (or just leaving) and really, to the acha that was all that mattered.

“When Waters Recede,” he carefully repeated her name, letting the words purposely roll along his tongue as if tasting it, as if savoring the opportunity to speak of another’s name. His ears flicked unconsciously, alternately lifting one front leg up then the other as if in cadence to the syllables.

“Such a hopeful sounding name,” he decided aloud, bobbing his head in agreement with himself. “Why brood? Isn’t the swiftness of hooves what kios such as yourself seek within themselves? Oh!” He leapt in place, “Are you seeking a challenge? Did you leave your competitors far behind already? Any stragglers? How many are there?” He angled his head to look behind her, eyes narrowing to peer into the distance, searching for hints of followers.

The laughter was nice -- she so rarely heard any true joy nearby. She heard grumbles and exhaustion; she heard mocking tones and jeers. Off in the distance, she would hear laughter like this but it was never for her ears. It was for families and lovers and friends, not for strangers.

Hopeful. Perhaps; she had always taken it as a promise. A loose promise that floods could not last forever. It -- her name -- had never been something to muse over before that event. Now it was impossible to separate herself from it. So, perhaps it was hope.

She laughed at that, "Swiftness is indeed prized and I have it but already today nearly ten kin have fallen behind." And so quickly, too. She looked him over, eyes narrowed as she rounded him in a predatory gaze that sized him up. "Do you think you can keep up? No one has before." It was as much an invitation as a warning.

Lonely’s ears stood rigid at the number, ten kin! He was visibly impressed, “I say, to best such a large number that takes great speed and endurance! However do you manage to maintain both?” he asked then quickly retracted his inquiry, “Ah no, such secrets are to be best kept guarded! I apologize for overstepping my bounds,” he bowed his head to show his humility for what he perceived was a social error.

The acha mulled over the invitation to test his mettle against the kio. On the one hoof, he was confident in his abilities of chasing after and running from all sorts of kin and predators and prey alike. On the other hoof, some of said kin had all been in his mind, phantom kimetis and totomas who would shun him, or shadow achas and kios who would hound him. It was only because he had met so few zikwas that he had yet the chance to dream of their departure or chase.

But here and now, in this place, in this time, Lonely did not have the imaginary kin to bother him. He had a real kio, flesh and blood and fur and speed, asking him to a race.

“When Waters Recede, would that I could, I shall run for a lifetime!” he declared, neither haughty nor humble. “Shall we see whether I am able?”

Waters was glad not to answer his question. There was no great secret to it but many kin could not appreciate the disaster she had endured, caught up in the rushing rapids as water overtook the swamp. To run far, fast, without exhaustion was a need far greater than even breathing and it was not something she could impress upon anyone. One either felt the need to outrun everything or they did not.

"I believe that we shall. We shall need a landmark to race to. You may choose," she decided. It would help determine what kind of run it was to be. A jog, a sprint, a gallop, or a race.

The acha thought to himself, pondering on an appropriate landmark for their race. He glanced this way and that, eventually settling for a large tree in the distance. From where they stood it was a mere dot, too far for a sprint but not far enough to warrant a marathon. Yes, that will do, Lonely decided, smiling to himself before gesturing to his chosen target with his head.

"There, I say, is that a good enough landmark for you? That dead tree far over there? Shall we? First one to touch a low-hanging branch?" he suggested, hopping from side to side as he spoke, already eager to run. Whether he would be running from or after didn't matter. The need to chase or flee will come when needed or unbidden. Probably unbidden.

The landmark he chose was quite far. Usually challengers picked something closer (and still failed miserably) but the way he moved -- "That will do fine. Are you sure you can manage such a distance?" It wasn't cockiness (although she knew it was likely she would win), it was cynicism. Every once in awhile there would be a kin that could keep up for a time; their pace steady and hoofbeats like thunder and then that kin would fall behind. The drop of her heart would cause her to run faster and she'd be alone again. One couldn't outrun loneliness. (For some reason, perhaps it was just an ache, she didn't want to outrun this one but it wasn't in her to not run as fast as she could.)

As she waited for his answer, she turned and began to draw a hoof across the dusty ground. They would need a start line to ensure there wasn't a cry of unfair that came up. Not that it ever mattered; she just outran them again with a head-start.

She was teasing him, yes? Or was she serious? The doe had outrun ten challengers just today, so maybe, maybe her doubt wasn’t so unfounded. Lonely hesitated, going stock-still for a heartbeat, but then his smile returned and his eyes tapered closed as he giggled, “I say, there’s only one way to find out whether my choice is a boon or a folly. And what good’s a challenge you know you’ll win? It’s not a challenge anymore then, is it?” he beamed, lightly stepping up beside her, standing just close enough that if he tried, really tried, his tail would softly brush against her.

Clouds drifted past, covering the sun and Lonely raised his head, “Shall we have the sun decide when we start?”

Optimism to her cynicism it seemed. Or blissful ignorance. It didn't matter much; they would have a race.

A stillness overcame her at his nearness but she kept her eyes forward. "When sunlight comes out, don't hold back," she warned.