How many seasons has it been since feeling the familiar lands under her hooves? Not much has changed except for the new scents carried on the winds. Had she’d much choice the grullo woman would not have come home so willingly. She was chasing her children down, a silly thing for a mother to spend time doing but they were all she had and would not make the mistakes her parents had. Thankfully there were only two wayward souls she was trying to track, one of which being her firstborn who was dead set on returning to his lagoon home. Sicily refused to go back there, so she set off after another of her sons for now, but ended up losing his trail when approaching the meadow. What idiots they both were, she thinks, tail lashing against her darker hued legs while scouring the vacant land and then moving on to another island to look for the boy.
The summer heat was hot and as she was still wet from her swim it made things humid and just downright disgusting; just like the fucking lagoon. Nostrils flaring and ears tilting forwards, her well rounded neck stretching out while attempting to sort through all the smells. Sicily was more than ready to charge forward at the slightest sight of her son and send him packing. He had no business here among these strangers, not anymore. Sicily was determined to wipe out their very existence among the islanders. Her hooves carry her up the unfamiliar beach she finds herself on, not at all familiar with the land before her. Where exactly had she ended up? She had been aiming for Luthien, knowing that would be the first place to look given that was where Vincenzo had been born, but the tropical theme ahead of her hardly screamed prairie lands. Maybe he was looking for his sire, whom she knew deep down was no longer there. Huffing to herself she turns to scan the horizon, trying to figure out the lay of the lands before throwing herself back into the surf.
Everything was very much different from before.