She had warned him, warned him that she had a bad case of wanderlust – that she was prone to going where her soul took her, not bound by borderlines or sea shores. But she returned, with salt in her mane and water dripping down her heaving sides, her eyes darting back and forth across the rocky ridge until she saw them.

One is unknown, the colour of golden sand, but with dark points and sharp eyes, and Rosaline finds herself curious to know this creature. The other is more familiar and brings a radiant smile to Rosaline’s mismatched lips.

She picks her way towards them, and does not spot Blackmore’s expression until she is a breath away. Her smile falls just as she presses her lips against his nose, breathing softly down the skin of his cheek and frowning. Had her absence affected him that much? Or was there something else on his mind. She glances at the unknown mare, and is sure that the concern that is in her eyes is echoed in her own.

“Blackmore, how are you?” she asks as she draws backwards, head cocked to the side, and eyes glancing towards the stranger, she adds: “Hello, I am Rosaline,” and gives her best smile.