you shouldn’t walk where the hemlock grows

The past few weeks have been heavy with loss.

Faolain’s heart aches after Çiçek despite knowing they will certainly meet again, and her body aches from Cullen’s blows after he had thwarted her attempt to take two of the Lagoon’s prisoners. She limps rather pitifully around Atlantis after these two events, slowly healing into just stiffness rather than the deep, dull pain she had returned home with. She can never blame Çiçek for her decision, and though the pain of absence is substantial, it holds no resentment. Faolain finds joy in knowing that the golden spotted mare is happy where she is, and bringing happiness to those around her, those who may need it more than the Ridge.

This is a soothing thought that helps her to cope as she spends the next few days recovering, rolling in the thick grass to ease the tense muscles of her back and walking to stretch the injury to her shoulder. She is solitary by nature, but as the seasons turn and the weather changes, she finds herself something close to lonely.

Of course, this brings her wandering after her closest copper friend. Rivaini’s company is a balm even when Faolain does not seek it out, but today she needs it especially. She spots the silver bay near the clear pool they often spent time around, and lets out a whistle of greeting as she approaches. The day is warm and thick with humidity, and chilly water seems to draw them both in.

”I wonder where all the winter birds go when it gets warm again,” she muses, dipping a single dark hoof into the water and pawing at it in a lazy, playful manner. ”Do they go to the same place, or do they spread out over the islands? I wonder if some come from the mainland.”

mare | black | 14hh | akhal-teke