“Oh!” Oswin gasped in a soft surprise, studying the white-faced mare with a newly curious eye. She wondered what it was like to have been born among the Vulcans, those mares who did what Oswin had only ever dreamed of doing all her life. The freedom she must have had here! Oswin could only daydream about it. Crossing Isle seemed to be teeming with life and while Oswin had loved growing up in the Prairie and harassing her siblings to play, she was thrilled with the prospect of constantly meeting new faces. It was likely her time at the height of the Peak would be done so in short bursts as she couldn’t realistically make a constant climb up and down the steep, sheer-faced path every day.

But for now she could appreciate how beautiful it was while feeling she’d never quite lose the sensation of awe which gripped her to stand here now.

Oswin’s ear flicked and her blue eyes refocused on Jetta as the mare asked her where she was from. A pleasant smile wore on her mouth and the same happiness was in her tone, for Oswin would never regret where she was born and raised. “I was born on Luthien, in the Prairie. I lived there with my father, Valentine, and my mother, Dock.” Oswin glanced over to where the Peak fell away and the world waited far, far down below. It nearly took her breath away to see it again and, before she lost her train of thought, she said, “I was never allowed to leave Luthien. My mother faced many horrors when she came to Crossing at a young age and she was afraid I’d face the same fate. We left Luthien a year ago to travel the Mainlands and… well, I missed it.” She swung her attention to Jetta. “I missed the islands more than anything. My mother had told me about the Peak and what its inhabitants stand for, what they fight for. I could think of nothing better than to devote my life to this place.”