Siobhan did not want to define the feeling that had driven her from the relative comfort of the Ridge into the common lands. She had no desire to seek out another stallion, nor really even that of the rest of her herd. For as much as Siobhan had cared for them, her companions had fled the moment Bjorn's claim on the Ridge had run out. Only herself and Ailill remained, loyal to a stallion that had all but abandoned them. As time ran on, she could feel her allegiance shifting. Not to Faolain, but to Ailill. He was the one to tuck the girls in at night, to comfort them when the Atlantean storms grew fierce.
Slowly but surely the golden stallion was growing on her, and while she still longed for the return of Bjorn, his loss was beginning to occupy less of her headspace. She filled this space with her love for the girls and her delight at how quickly they were growing, nourished both mentally and physically by the jungle she called home.
It was a strange anguish being away from them. She knew she needed to clear her head, to make some decisions before summer gave way to fall and hormones clouded her thinking. It was a hard thing to do with the foals bustling around her heels. Not to mention, every part of the Ridge was saturated with her memories of Bjorn. In retrospect, it might've been easier to leave like the rest of the herd. To sever her ties with the land with a clean break. Perhaps then the loss would not have felt so immense in her chest. She would have easily followed wherever Ailill might have lead them.
Instead, they lived under the watchful eye of a stranger.
These thoughts mill around in her head as the spotted mare walks along the edges of the Falls. Her body had begun to return to its former shape, no longer made lean by the double load she'd taken on when she'd adopted Aislinn. As the girls grew and found nourishment elsewhere, Siobhan had slowly gained weight and her flanks no longer appeared hollow from lack of nourishment.
A rhythmic muted crashing from up ahead She'd heard rumors of this beautiful feature but had yet to see it herself. The waterfalls in her home had been enough for her, but she figured that if she was here, she might as well go see it. Steadily she paced toward the noise until at last the namesake of this area came into view. Siobhan paused in admiration of the view and noticed a small figure shape just inside the swirling mist.
As soon as she sees it, the form is gone, swallowed once more by the mist of the waterfall. Worry plagued her heart for a moment. The color had been indistinct, it's hue overlaid by her fear by that either of her two daughters had swum here after her. She'd given them strict instructions to stay behind, to protect and play with each other, and to look to Ailill for help, but both were strong girls. Roisin would never turn down an adventure if she could sniff one out and following her dam would have been a strong temptation.
The red mare hurries toward the shape at an extended trot, taking care not to slip on the slick wet ground. Mist billows around her as she displaces the air until at last the shape of the foal is once more distinct, and she finds herself in the company of a girl she does not know. It does not take more than a glance from Siobhan's amber eyes to assess the filly's form, to see the ribs made lean by sudden weaning. The disarray of the girl's coat gives evidence enough to the lack of a mother to care for her, and though she knows nothing more of this child than her appearance, Siobhan has already warmed to her.
"Hello," she offers gently as she comes to a stop, a smile appearing on her lips. Her gaze rises to their surroundings, but no adults magic themselves into existence there. "Are you waiting for someone?"