Days had passed since Roisin had fought with her mother, and still her pride licked its wounds and glared at her any time humility suggested that they give in. She had been so delighted to find Sigurdr again, to bring back news of her father, that she could not understand why such knowledge would give her mother anything but the same pure joy that she experienced.

Never had the red mare yelled at her as she did that day. Even when Roisin had been at her naughtiest - and the bright, bold filly could certainly be naughty - Siobhan didn't yet. On the rare occasion that Ro's antics lead to a rise out of the mare, she was always quick to apologize and they made up within moments. But this... this was something different.

The dun filly had told Ailill her intentions - pointedly ignoring her mother - and then prodded Akadi into coming along. She'd invited Aislinn too, but her sister had become reclusive and hard to find these days. In truth, she wasn't even entirely sure that Akadi would come. Their bond had developed quickly after she'd lowered her guard, and she thought of the greying filly fondly, but there was no denying that the girl marched to her own drum. Whether she would follow Roisin to where the parrots roosted or not remained to be seen.

For now, she had every intention of collecting a stock of bright feathers so that the next time Sig came back she could dress him up like the prince that he was.

Roisin skipped along the familiar path, humming a jaunty tune to herself, heedless of any that may watch. The Ridge was home. It was safe. It belonged to her in a way that she couldn't explain. As the clearing opened up, Ro sent out a flippant call, just in case Sig was already back. "I'm here! Are you there?"

When no brother was forthcoming, Ro bent to her original purpose. She was quickly absorbed in her task, bouncing from one fallen feather to the other until an assortment of them lay at her feet in piles that trembled with every jump that she took. They were arranged crudely according to color, with piles of reds, greens, blues and yellows at her hooves. Except for the feather that she held in her lips, eyes narrowed and nearly cross-eyed as she stared at it, struggling to determine if it was more yellow or more green.

FILLY | MUTT | 14.3 HANDS WFG | BAY DUN SABINO | THE RIDGE | BJORN x SIOBHAN | LOVEINSPIRED | CREDIT