The Ridge had been blanketed in storm clouds for the past few days, but the sky was finally beginning to clear. Faolain had discovered a cliff’s edge where the land dropped off into open air, at the very top of the spine of the island. She spent much of her time there, looking out over the blue expanse of ocean, spiderwebbed with whitecaps as the tiny, distant waves rolled over the rocks at the foot of the cliff far below. It was peaceful even in the threatening weather. She spent this time meditating, though she did not know the name for it. It was nothing special for her to completely wipe her mind empty, so she could more easily organize the thoughts once she began to form them again.

If one were to walk in on Faolain in her meditative state, one might think she was part of the earth itself, so still was she with her legs tucked neatly underneath her. But no one did. The Ridge was quiet, and though she enjoyed solitude and silence, it was an almost lifeless quiet, and she wished to change that. One of these days, if Siobhan did not seek her out, Faolain would find her, but for now she was content to give the red mare and her children space. She could not understand what the previous residents were experiencing upon the disappearance of their leader, but Faolain preferred to err on the side of withdrawal over suffocation when it came to dealing with unknown emotions. She knew there was a balance of support between those two extremes, but finding it was trial and error, and her first trial was most often to withdraw.

Still, she knew that just because she had preferred this approach as a nomad did not mean it would be successful as a leader. Her entire world had changed in a very short period of time in ways she had never expected. She would have to adapt. As the storm clouds rolled away toward the Crossing, Faolain rose quietly onto her spindly black legs and turned to descend into the jungle.

She had no clear idea of what she would say, or even who she was trying to find. Perhaps she would say nothing, and just offer her presence and support, and the freedom to turn her away if whomever she came across was not interested in her company yet. That seemed like the most logical option; what could she even say to someone whose life she had uprooted? She could not force anyone to see from her point of view, and even if they could understand her motives it was not a guarantee they would condone her actions. She had never sought out approval before, and she didn’t really want to now; wasn’t she, as a leader, free to do whatever she wanted and free to disregard the opinions of others?

But of course it was not that simple. Ultimately her purpose here was to protect and provide, and that made her a servant of her people. She could not grovel at their feet and beg for their affections, but neither could rule them with an iron fist. There was a balance to it. There was a balance to everything, and it was becoming more and more apparent that Faolain’s core was drawn to this balance, no matter what position she held among a herd; no matter who, if anyone, decided to follow her.

Her mind was still pondering her need to find balance when a strange pattern of soft footsteps alerted her. She could tell from here that they were hoofbeats, but she could not discern what gait, or even in which direction they traveled - in fact, it sounded like they were stationary. The slender black mare halted, pinpointed the location of the hoofbeats, and followed them until a hardly familiar scent told her that someone was shuffling just a few feet ahead, hidden by the dense foliage and the evening mist. She continued to listen for a few seconds, but decided that spying and eavesdropping - if you could call it that - were dishonest under any circumstances, and she stepped forward to find the pale golden stallion she had met when she first arrived.

She could not tell what he was doing, but he did not smell sick and did not seem ill of mind. She cocked her dark head to the side, her eyes following the odd rhythmic pattern of his hooves. "What are you doing?" she asked, her voice quiet, non-threatening. She was genuinely curious.