you shouldn’t walk where the hemlock grows

Since her time spent with Çiçek on the beach, Faolain had slowly found peace again and eventually was able to rest. Her dreams were foggy and abstract, but she woke the mornings after feeling better. The changing of the seasons also helped; with warmth returning to their homes, the migratory birds set off one after another to make the journey back. Their time here in the jungle had come to an end, and relative quiet stole slowly over Atlantis as the birds took their songs with them. There were birds that remained to sing year-round, but the symphony was no longer quite so deafening.

Faolain lies curled at the tip of the Ridge on one of these mornings, enjoying the salty breeze that drifts up the face of the cliff from the waves below. She can see the beach from her position, and she watches it peacefully with her chin resting on one folded knee, nostrils gently flaring as she scents the sea air. Before she can even catch the scent of the newcomer, she sees the head bobbing along the waves, and Faolain’s own crown lifts slightly as she watches… not one, but two little faces approaching the shore. As she realizes that one of them is a foal, Faolain rises to her feet and begins the descent to meet them.

The jungle is lively with the sounds of life as Faolain follows the familiar trail to the beach. Her neck is outstretched as she catches the scents of mother and child, and soon she spots them, already in the shelter of the trees. There is a tension in the blue roan mother, and Faolain keeps her distance, though she steps clearly into view and offers a gentle whinny to the two of them as she does so. She stops with her head held high on her crane-like neck, her expression neutral but curious. She does not expect they are here to cause trouble.

”Hello,” she says, her voice cool but not unfriendly. ”What brings you to the Ridge?”

mare | black | 14hh | akhal-teke