Common

The inky black mare woke up on her third day on the Crossing to grass tickling the velvet skin of her nose. It was morning, early enough that no actual sunlight could be seen, just milky light filtering through the trees creating a hazy atmosphere of calm and cold. In a sheltered corner of the meadow, Faolain had hidden away rest for a few hours, but now she rose to her feet and shook out her coat, then stepped out of the shadows and into the frosted grass of the open meadow.

Somewhere nearby, she could hear footsteps. They were slow; they sounded tired. She couldn’t smell anything but the sea, so the little mare started toward the sound to investigate.

The source of the footsteps was not far, but on her walk over Faolain had time to gather herself and shake off the last of the sleepy veil that still clung to the edges of her mind. She hadn’t really dreamed—Faolain almost never dreamed—but her sleeping conscious had explored the island in her mind and she had subconsciously made the decision that today was the day to leave the Crossing and see what lay beyond.

Before her, not far from the edge of the meadow, a pale stallion seemed to be sleepwalking through the trees. He looked harrowed, exhausted, but Faolain saw determination and stubborn strength in his expression and in the way he kept pushing forward when his body had probably been asking him for rest for a long time. Faolain approached him cautiously, letting out a greeting snort of air in his direction.

“Are you alright?” she asked, stepping back in case he did not feel like stopping to respond. “Are you looking for someone?”

i heard him howlingas he passed me by