you shouldn’t walk where the hemlock grows

It is through thin, meaningless dreams that Çiçek’s gentle greeting reaches Faolain. The guardian’s slender ears flick towards the soft press of Çiçek’s hooves into the sand, and her head tilts to the side to allow one dark eye to watch the spotted mare approach. She whickers in response, grateful for the company. She leans into the touch of Çiçek’s whiskered lips and sighs, soothed by the comfortable silence and by the bleeding dawn waves. It is a new day.

”What does that mean?” she asks softly after a few breaths of the surf. She has heard the nickname before, and though she does not know its translation, it makes her heart flutter every time the mysterious words leave Çiçek’s lips. Somehow, in all of the chaos of the Ridge the past few weeks, she has failed to ask about the nickname despite her characteristic curiosity.

The silence stretches on again as the sun rises above the sleepy waves, and Faolain relaxes into Çiçek’s side. She presses her dark head against the other mare’s golden neck, her ebony mane mingling in stark contrast with the white tresses of the dunalino. When Çiçek turns to look at her, Faolain straightens up to meet her gaze and nods at her question, a tired smile tugging her dark lips. Her gaze lingers affectionately on her companion for a moment before sweeping back out over the sea. ”I suspect I am not the only one,” she says sympathetically. She can sense disquiet within her friend, and though it is not like Çiçek to hide her emotions, Faolain feels as though she has drawn a curtain over something. ”Would you like to swap stories of our inner turmoil, or would you rather a rematch of that race?” She turns back to Çiçek, a more genuine, mischievous smile lighting up her stoic face as she remembers watching her golden figure streaking into the distance, her tail a brilliant white banner.

Truth be told, Faolain doesn’t think she’s capable of winning this time either. She is weary, but too wired to sleep. If not for her friend, she might phase through weak sleep and feeble consciousness indefinitely, but Çiçek’s energy and enthusiasm is contagious, as well as her tranquility. Faolain knows she will be happy to run just to stay in Çiçek’s presence, or remain still for the same reason. The company is peaceful regardless of the activity, and she is grateful for it.

mare | black | 14hh | akhal-teke