The first thing Şahin noticed about the mare’s name when she introduced herself was how smooth the two-syllable word was. It was a soft word, for a soft mare— so far Şahin had determined that his companion was quiet. Maybe reserved was a better word. Her small, shy smile had not gone unnoticed, either, and he made it a private goal of his to see if he could coax the expression from her again. To avoid staring, he scanned the area ahead of them and held back a sigh. He wanted to be home, not wandering the beach. He was glad he’d come across the dark mare, because this walk would’ve been a thousand times more unbearable if he’d had to do it alone.

“Really? I’m from there, originally,” he said, and grinned. He hadn’t thought about home in a long while, but it was nice to be reminded of the verdant valley he’d grown up in. “Welcome to the islands, Sable. We’re on Atlantis right now. This particular territory is called Paradise, and yes, it’s my home. Lovely place except for that jungly part back there,” he continued with a glance over his pale shoulder.

Looking ahead again, Şahin thought he saw the dense-tree line thinning. He thanked the gods (not that he believed in any) that he hadn’t chosen the long route and lengthened his stride to a slow jog for a few steps before recalling himself to his company. It’d be rude to run off and leave her on the sand, and despite his eagerness to see the random palm trees and flat, open landscape of his home he matched his pace to hers. “How do you like the islands compared to the continent?” he asked. While the mainland was immense —far bigger than he could ever traverse, and believe me, he’d tried— Şahin found he preferred the small, intimate size of the islands. While he certainly didn’t know everyone, he recognized some horses when he went to the Crossing and never felt like he was lost in a crowd. The islands were very homey compared to where he’d come from, in his opinion.