The wind ripped at her hair.

On the eastern side of the peak, the winds were the strongest, tugging and pulling at her black hair as she stood on a ridge, staring down across the sandy beach that creased the ocean. Here, she was so far away from the sea, but still she could smell the stink of salt that clung to her flesh. The watered down woman had been claimed by the ocean, and perhaps her god was angered by her tendency to climb up the rocky ledges of the peak and find herself as far from his grasp as possible.

She thought he would flood the earth if she were to travel inland to the desert, for it seemed she had crossed the paths of too many storms when she was far inland to believe that the water god could not find her.

Staring out across the other islands, she can see the others from here, stretched out as far as the eye can see. They are not close together in a little cluster of land, but instead spaced out by generous expanses of water. Bringing light to her private plan of attack, she hears the gentle clatter of hard hooves against the rocky ground and turns her head to see the small, painted girl passing by. Leviathan assumed she was wandering higher, perhaps to find what little vegetation the top of the mountain offered. Out of curiosity, the black mare turns and follows her. Her steps are careful, for she finds she is still unfamiliar with the stony paths of the mountain.

Stepping around a large rock, she finds herself in a very small meadow in which the girl has decided to rest by laying herself flat out, staring dreamily up into the sky. Casting a skeptical glance to the sky before looking back at the girl, she does not step closer, suddenly aware there might be a protective mother lurking somewhere nearby. “What brings you here, little cub?”