Falls

Firethorn was still too busy pondering their new companion and snorting in disbelief at his retort to take much notice, but Foxglove giggled at Nephilim’s reaction to the stranger’s compliment. His laugh was awkward and unsure, and it both amused and comforted her to see that he was not as sure as himself as Firethorn and Al Sarim seemed of their selves.

Nephilim, he named himself at the prompting of the others. Foxglove offered him a smile, as if greeting him properly for the first time, and tucked the name away in her memory for safekeeping. Perhaps they would meet again someday. She hoped so – he seemed nice.

The conversation was steered back towards safer subjects then, however, as Nephilim questioned Al Sarim. The two fillies returned their gaze to the stallion as he began to speak, their little red ears pricked forwards with interest.

So he came from the desert, but not the island of Salem that Firethorn and Foxglove had heard tales of on the Lost Islands. It had never really occurred to them that there were other communities both like and unlike theirs in places that they didn’t even know existed. The idea seemed to impossible and yet so fascinating at the same time.

“Luthien,” Firethorn replied in answer to Al Sarim’s question. “We live in the Prairie.”

Her gaze flicked towards Nephilim, wondering briefly why he lived on the Crossing. Didn’t his mother live in a herd? But before she could delve any further into the mystery or ask him about it, Al Sarim had another question for them.

Firethorn made a face in response. She had just begun to relax a little and think that maybe this stallion wasn’t so strange after all, but his new question irked her.

“Our dad,” said Foxglove, though Firethorn cut her off before she could go any further.

“We can take care of ourselves,” she declared confidently, tossing her head. “We’re old enough to go around on our own.”

foxglove && firethorn
LIKE TWO ATOMS IN A MOLECULE, INSEPARABLY COMBINED