Common

Kendry had never figured fate to be fickle.

And yet, what else is he to suppose? The fire once lit within him has fizzled out and left a thick, oily smoke obscuring his path forward, and so he wanders— once again as aimless as he had been when a bachelor of the Lagoon, except now he does not even have that land of brotherhood to call home. He cannot seem to leave the Crossing, and yet in a painful contradiction his heart yearns for Change. The white stallion finds himself more and more often on the borders of the island, pacing restlessly over sand and grassy bank as his head turns more often than not to stare out across the white-capped waves between himself and the islands. He feels out of place here, but does not know where to set his hooves otherwise.

Sunrise brings him no joy. Grazing has become a chore. Sleep, when he can sink into it, brings no relief, and even when he runs he feels no less restless than when at a standstill: his body thrums with an untapped need, and Kendry does not know how to still it. This morning is much the same as all the rest. The perlino paces down the beach, his strides too heavy as his hooves reveal his emotional unrest with each thudding beat. His heart echoes the high, hollow cries of early morning gulls. He is lonely for horses he knows. Perhaps it is time to revisit Gnome, though it galls Kendry that he has nothing to show for the time they’ve been apart. No herd, no land. Little more than experience, new acquaintances, and a rising drive to do something as frustration clamors at him for all that he has not.

Still, as the sun stretches warm rays over the sands he makes as if to turn and head for the opposite shore of the Common, prepared to swim for Atlantis’s shores, when he is stopped short by the emergence of another horse from the waves by which he walks. She moves with the purpose he feels he lacks and, drawn to her confident carriage, Kendry pauses to watch the mare get her bearings before she strides off the beach and into the claiming fields. She is slender but healthy, well-conformed, and dipped all in gold save for the white fall of hair tumbling over her shoulders and hanging at her back. It will not be long before she catches the eye of a band stallion (or mare), and, even though he has nothing to offer her at this time except his company, Kendry leaves the beach.

He approaches from her left, whickering a greeting (though doubtless his heavy tread has been enough of a giveaway that she’s about to have company) as he halts a few steps away to regard her with unabashed curiosity. He’s seen many set foot on these shores over the years, but few have arrived with as much poise. “Good morning,” he says, and for the first time in so many days sincerely feels that it is. One pale ear turns frequently to monitor the sounds of others in the area while the other remains firmly trained on her as he continues, “I’d say ‘welcome,’ too, but you carry yourself like someone familiar with the land— that or someone who has no reservations about the unknown. Are you tempting fate, or flaunting it?”