Cinnamon didn’t mind the winter, but the heavy wet snow that had been falling on the Crossing lately was a nuisance. The end of winter seemed to be fighting with the beginning of spring, and neither was maintaining much of an upper hand.

The dappled red stallion had forgotten how long he’d been on the Crossing isle. The days were melding together now, and only the slightly changing weather helped him keep track of the passing of time. He decided it was maybe time to move on and find a more permanent home, with inhabitants he could actually socialize with. He made his way to the shore with no solid plan of where he was going and began to swim. He knew he wanted to stay within these islands, he just didn’t particularly care which one. The only idea he had of where the others were was the paths worn into the land by many hooves. They pointed out in four different directions from the center of the island. Cinn chose one at random.

The swim wasn’t too bad, but Cinnamon was terribly sick of being wet. Luckily the frigid, stony shore he arrived on seemed dry enough once he was away from the sea air. He could handle dry cold.

He moved inland slowly. There was a herd living here, and he didn’t want to appear as though he wanted to cause trouble. He called out a few times as he walked, his vocalizations friendly and curious. Was anybody there?

After a few minutes of walking, the red stallion halted. He could see through the trees that there were others. He wondered if any of them had heard him. While he felt that his flaming red coat was visible enough through the trees, he once again let out a friendly call. Anybody home? Just stopping in to say hi. Then he stood still and waited and listened.

she marks her fingerprints
in my skin
i breathe her perfume in
and it burns like heroin
now she's in me
and i can't let her go