Common

It is tempting to venture toward the Peak, and the longer Kendry spends on the Crossing the less he feels capable of resisting the impulse. Certainly, he has cut all ties with the Lagoon and participated (dabbled, more like) in the war on Luthien, and he has secured for himself sanctuary within an occupied territory in which to build his herd, but he does not feel this is enough to win Bozena’s regard. It might be enough to gain him another conversation with her, but he desires more than that.

Kendry wheels away from the Peak at a trot, then cuts directly across the Meadow as he heads south. He is little more than a creamy silhouette plunging through the deep drifts with breath billowing skyward as he labors, more aware than ever of the mountains at his back. He does not take a direct route home: he is, in fact, going the wrong way. There is little conscious reason for it, only the knowledge that the closer he gets to the Peak the more difficult it will be for him to hold his course. Thus it is early evening when Kendry finds himself in the Commons and pauses to catch both his breath and his bearings in the gathering dusk.

His blue eyes flick across the packed snow and myriad hoofprints littering the ground. He hasn’t been here since he was a boy, and the memory is not a fond one. He wrinkles his nostrils, snorting to clear his airways. The smell of horse is strong despite so few being in the immediate area. Many have passed through here in a short amount of time. Kendry snorts again, then turns his head as movement to his left catches his eye. It’s the slow, deliberate pace of the mare that initially draws his attention, snaring him with the bold pattern of her coat: white paired with faded black, offset by a creamy mane and tail. Kendry welcomes the distraction as he heads toward the mare, whickering to announce his approach, and as he draws up beside her, the stallion notes the tension lining her face. “Hey, you all right?”