white as a cotton field and sharp as a knife
As she had suspected, the pale stallion sidestepped her question about his name, and she dropped it, not pressuring him further for an answer. She was curious, but this was a situation where she did not think pushing would get her the information she desired. It was no secret that he was lost in a new environment, talking to a stranger who looked very different from himself, and it did not take much speculation to come to the conclusion that you had to be careful with uncertain strangers. The fact was not lost to Faolain that she was much smaller than Iscariot, and though she could not read any aggression from his body language and tone, one could never be sure.
His demeanor seemed to change abruptly at the black mare’s offer of help. There was an energy to his words that she had not yet seen in any mannerism the stallion expressed, so much so that he stumbled over them in his rush to get them out. But it only made sense; here was a chance, if slight, that he would find his sister sooner than he might have on his own, which meant a better chance of them being reunited at all. She hoped she would succeed.
She bobbed her head thoughtfully, remembering where it was she had first met land. North a little ways, she suspected, though it had been dark, and she had immediately taken off to do a reconnaissance of the island, or at least as much as she could in one run. It was a big island. For now, the size of the Crossing isle was to their advantage, and she knew that if the siblings came from the same place, they should have at least washed up along the same side of the isle, if not the same shore. What she was worried about was time. The longer they waited, the lower the chance of the siblings running into each other, and the more faded the tracks would become if they could discern any in the sand.
“I will show you where I washed up,” she said. “It is not far. Perhaps we may find signs of your sister. Tracks, hopefully. It’s a bit of a walk, and if you’d like to rest first I will wait here with you.”
Ooc: I figured I’d leave it up to you if they find tracks while searching or not! I never specified where Faolain washed up so that is open to be used as a plot device as well, either to lead them in the correct or opposite direction, whichever you’d like :3
