her mind was in its usual state, for these days anyway…muddled with stress and tension. the warning from bahadir regarding the state of affairs on the isles had been alarming enough on its own… petal worried for dahlia’s safety. she had known the filly seemed keen on wandering, but she should have warned her more carefully of the lurking dangers of the world… and now, with the war, her heart was even more ill-at-ease.

to add to that warning she also couldn’t help but to think of jabari. where he might be or why he hadn’t returned. of all the things petal could have anticipated, being jilted was not one of them… why hadn’t he come back for her? and she could not think of the son without also considering the father. it was almost more painful yet to think of shamwari. she cannot even call him an old friend any more. the last flickering light of hope that she held for their friendship had been snuffed out by his treatment of her. he had reduced her to a bargaining chip for an alliance with a stranger.

nevertheless, she felt there was no reason to hesitate. she would set out immediately. for a moment, as the ghostly pale bronze hued mare floated across the sand toward the sea, she felt the freedom in a heady rush and felt peace…but as soon as her small hooves sink into the sand at the shore’s edge, the peace is replaced with a sense of urgency and foreboding.

petal swims, her body cutting through the dark water that edges salem, and lets her thoughts wander. she is not one for recklessness nor was she normally complacent, but the turmoil in her heart and her head cloud her mind. it is late afternoon when she finally reaches the shore of the crossing. the sun hangs low on the horizon, it’s warmth and light quickly dissipating. she pulls herself out of the water and finds herself surrounded by dense foliage. it is unfamiliar. there is a narrow path, winding through strange trees and patches of soggy earth. for a moment she thinks, perhaps, that she should turn back… she could slip back into the water and swim north to a more familiar landing…. but the hour grows late and she would make better time on land.

a shiver runs over her pale hide as she travels the path, her pearlescent coat gleaming as the afternoon turns to evening and the moon begins to rise. though she wants to call out, to seek dahlia in earnest and by name, something in her soul bids her to stay quiet. as she traipses inland, she slowly becomes aware of her mistake. it is not safe here.