The month's since the claiming of the Harbor had passed slowly for N.asa. Her brief encounters with the mares who'd washed upon her shores had been less than desirable for the dark mare. Her brief meeting with Faolain of the Ridge had been quite promising for her. Faolain seemed a wise soul, albeit inexperienced like N.asa in the realms of leadership. The ebony mare leaves the waters of the Harbor disappearing into the forest that lined the shores. She figured that perhaps she owed the Ridge a visit, though how to get there she wasn't sure. She plunged into the jungle that provided much needed heat for the impending Winter that she knew she was going to revil in. Hot-blooded by nature, the change in the temperatures of Atlantis and Salem had been shocking to the Arabian whom was used to dry heat.

N.asa was not a natural-born navigator in the slightest so when she broke the tree-line again, where she landed looked much like the Harbor. If it weren't for the overwhelming and foreign scent of others, she would have presumed she still was there. It's clear that where she's come is not the home of Faolain but instead that of a male. Weary, the black Arabian cranes her head from side to side. She whickers a greeting before reproaching back to the tree-line. Should she need to leave quickly, she'd much prefer to do so through the entangled jungle instead of the open shores.