Xyn~Apps

[XynXan]

Just where I will store applications for contests
Primarily for Sahariin

[XynXan]

Dahryn's First Race

I kept my eyes closed as Jack packed things up around me. He’d been researching what I am (a sahariin) and discovered there were events in a pocket dimension specifically for sahariin to compete in. It sounded thrilling.
I heard him brush his hands together, then pause. “I know you’re excited to go out, Dahr, so let’s get going.”
I yawned and stretched as I stood to my full height, coming up to the tall, serpentine man’s waist, and made my way toward the door, my tail twitching with anticipation. Jack adjusted his backpack, knocked once, slapped his palm against the door three times, then knocked again before turning the knob.
The door swung open to reveal a wide, open field peppered with people and their sahariin, chatting or playing. I glanced above the doorframe and realized we’d snuck into the compound through the women’s bathroom. Pocket dimensions never ceased to amuse me- no matter which door you opened, you never knew where you’d end up.
We began to follow the trail to the main building, but my nose led me toward the food stands. “That’s a fine cat you’ve got there. What’s its type?” asked the woman behind the counter.
Jack blinked. “I believe he’s a mix; Wild and Fancy type.”
The woman looked at me sympathetically. “I was just thinking how wonderful it’d be to see him shown. Unfortunately, only pure-blooded sahariin can participate in the events. You’re welcome to watch, though, and you’ll always be welcome at my stand. Can I pet your mane?”
I tilted my head at her and looked around. Other sahariin nearby had overheard, most wearing sympathetic expressions, though a few looked down their noses at us. Jack’s mouth twitched. “Are there any, like, non-sanctioned events? I don’t know if Dahryn would be interested in participating, but if the option is there, at least he’s not being completely left out.”
I blinked and rubbed my flank against his hip, then stepped toward the food stand owner, allowing her to run her fingers through my thick black mane.
“You take really good care of him,” she said, rubbing my ears. “His fur is so soft and thick. As for other events… I’m not sure. I’ve heard some chatter, but most people are very vigilant with their sahariin, and unintentional breedings don’t happen often. If you do find somewhere to show him, let me know. I think he’d be phenomenal.”
Her fingers worked magic on my ears, and I could feel drool pooling in the corner of my mouth.
“Alright, here’s your snacks,” she said after a moment, pulling her hands away to let me recover. “It’s on the house. Enjoy your first race!”
Reluctantly, I pulled away and followed Jack to the stands, where we settled into a spot with a great view of the field. I watched as sahariin of all types prepared to race. Great sahariin with thick, flowing manes trotted up and down the lanes, their fur shimmering in the sunlight. Sleek, maneless sahariin with long, whip-like tails lounged by the starting line, their muscles coiled like springs.
A whistle blew, and the competitors gathered at the starting line, some shaking out their fur while others did last-second stretches. The crowd fell silent. Then, at the sound of the starting gun, they were off.