Falls

Just as in the Ridge - just as everywhere - trouble darkens their doorstep.

The summer had been calm, a season of long days and fields of fragrant violet blooms. Keeping Şevket occupied had maintained her trim figure, the boy’s endless energy taking them to all corners of the Cove - especially after Solomon had taken them up the mountain. That trip became an endless discussion for the two of them as they meandered, both in detailed recollections of the day and in constant questions about their next adventure as a trio. “Anne,”“Mommy,” he’d whisper into Çiçek’s shoulder, meeting her downturned gaze. “When can we see the Inlet?”

He’d noticed it at the summit, just barely, a wide, flat expanse of earth far off in the horizon. It was the only land that didn’t border the Cove, and though it was allied territory, they’d have to either swim around or cut through lands where they didn’t have expressed permission to do so. “Your babadaddy is very busy keeping us safe,” she’d answer after a moment, prodding at the frown drifting like a rain cloud over his pale face. “Remember? We see him in the morning sometimes, going on patrol.

“Not today, aşkım,”my love,” she’d whisper, running her lips through his mane. “I’m sorry. Not today, but soon.”

Soon, though, came autumn, and with it the strange, cloying perfume of the breeding season. Şevket noticed the tension in the air, the way almost all of the mares grew restless and their fuses shortened. Even Çiçek’s patience with him wore thin sometimes, his dam seeming especially anxious, their walks taking them farther and farther from the outskirts of the herd. More often than not, especially as fall progressed, she brought him to the coast. As he gamboled about, playing in the waves, tossing around driftwood, and chasing crabs, all she did was stare wordlessly out to sea, her thoughts miles and miles away.

They’d been making their way towards the beach one morning, as usual, when something came flowing down the path to meet them, something that made Şevket stop in his tracks and Çiçek’s blood turn cold. Screams, many of them, punctuated by the staccato clatter of hooves on pebbled sand. She moves swiftly and decisively, her spotted body striding protectively in front of her son. One nudge of her nose to Şevket’s shoulder as she passes and he’s leaping, deerlike, amongst the trees just off the well-worn path, finding a spot in the deep shadows of the pines and dropping low to the ground. Part of her knows she should turn back, hide away herself, or at least take her weanling child to the rest of the herd and then return… but by that point, she worries, it’ll be too late for her to help anyone at all.

Çiçek eyes the space between the trees where Şevket hides. “Wait here, aşkım,”my love,” she calls, her voice barely audible. With a flick of her platinum white tail, she pivots, trotting briskly down the path and towards the source of the chaos.

Soon, though, everything goes quiet. The squeals stop, and the birds and squirrels and other various forest creatures seem to disappear entirely as she gets closer to the coast. Something has happened here, clearly and obviously, but Çiçek finds no other horses, not even as she breaks free of the trees and steps purposefully onto the beach. Her mahogany eyes sweep the forest’s edge, narrowed nearly to slits by the furrow of her brow. Nothing - save for a place a few hundred yards down, where a multitude of hoof prints pockmark the sand. She trots towards it, her steps high and proud, projecting confidence even as her ears swivel nervously back and forth.

Luckily, nobody disturbs her. Çiçek reaches the scene of what looks like a scuffle, her heart dropping into her stomach. She bows her head low, her light pink muzzle scanning over the prints, nostrils flaring to catch the secrets held within.

Solomon, she confirms, worry rising in her gut despite her lack of surprise. Another scent comes to her, that of the creamy draft stallion her king had taken as his second; following that, traces of two more familiar-yet-unknown souls, mares this time. On top of everything, one more mare, warm like daffodils and sunshine… sweet like honey, like -

“Illusion?” she blurts, jerking her head up and peering around. When Çiçek doesn’t see her, she drops her nose back down to the ground, trying to track the tawny mare’s whereabouts. It doesn’t work. It’s all too mixed up, the distinct colors of each herd member’s unique mark covered in some strange stallion’s musk and dashed into chum by his large, saucer-like hooves. Finally, creeping up and settling like an infection, comes the undeniable stench of rot, festering in her delicate senses so that she yanks her head away and sneezes. Çiçek shakes her head, following the hoofprints with her sight, this time, and not her smell.

Not all of them make it to the waves. Just two pairs of hoofprints lead into the sea, eventually swept into nothingness by the constant rush of the tide, one set obviously belonging to the intruder, another to someone smaller. Çiçek takes a step forward, then pulls back, hesitating; she looks back over her shoulder, Şevket flashing in her mind’s eye.

Maybe she’d check the beach first and see if she could find Illusion there somewhere, rattled but ultimately safe. Çiçek strides off with purpose, staying close to the waves and scanning both the tree line and the ocean beyond. She continues like this for some time, tamping down her building disappointment and wheeling back the way she’d come. Whatever it was that happened, it clearly wasn’t on this end of the Cove, so there had to be something on the opposite side.

Halfway back, though, Çiçek starts feeling… peculiar. Her brisk pace slows to a crawl, the straight line of her path waving as she stumbles about. Her head turns foggy, as if filled with thick, viscous fluid, and it hangs low beneath her shoulders. Her thoughts fade to nothing. Why was she here? Water shushes rhythmically to her right, and her eyes slide towards it, extending the line of her gaze over the sea and all the way to the main island.

Her breath grows ragged in her chest.

So many times, lately, she’s stood on this same beach, thinking about Rivaini and wondering how she is. So many hours spent waiting, hoping to see her strong red form bobbing closer and closer. So many nights wondering where she was and why she hadn’t yet come to visit. Worrying that she never would, that Çiçek’s actions had broken their bond beyond repair, that the only thing coming to her from Atlantis would be the withered fragments of her heart, returned by the one she’d once given them to.

“Bezelye,”“Sweet pea,” she calls forlornly to the warm sea breeze, tears blurring her vision.

If Rivaini wouldn’t come here, she decides, then she will go there. Çiçek crashes headlong into the surf, her eyes locked with newfound determination on the island looming in the distance. She kicks her way out, out and out and out until Tinuvel is a forgotten whitecapped blur behind her and the shores of the Crossing loom near.

Back in the Cove, nestled perfectly below the boughs, Şevket waits for her, unknowing.

-

Somehow, she makes it. The second she steps back onto solid ground, Çiçek’s legs ache with exertion, and she notices the hard pound of her heart against her ribs. She pauses, her long forelock dripping saltwater in little rivers over her face. The mare tosses her head, blinking to clear her vision and failing. Everything looks blurry, as if she’s just woken up from a deep sleep. As if she’s run from darkness into blinding light, and her pupils need time to adjust.

Squinting, Çiçek glances skyward, finding the sun. In her single-mindedness, she knows she needs to go south… so south she goes, following the edge of the island through lands scented heavily of other mares. It only reminds her of her purpose. “‘M coming, Rivaini,” she slurs, urging herself to keep going. Before long, she’s made it to the Falls. She tries to nibble some grass along the way, but it tastes bitter on her tongue. Çiçek can’t stop, no matter how tired she is, until she’s face-to-face with her bezelye,sweet pea, reading the emotions held like gems in her glittering sapphire eyes.

Thankfully for Çiçek, she doesn’t have to wait long.

A shape looms on the horizon, the first she’s seen since Şevket. She freezes, squinting again in an attempt to sharpen her view and wobbling closer. It’s horse-shaped, yes, she can tell that much, with a deep sienna coat and - and a silver mane?

Her breath hitches in her throat, and she surges into frenzied motion, euphoria and terror each holding her in their powerful clutches. Çiçek closes the distance between them, freezing instinctively just before the light-haired creature. “R-Rivaini?” she squeaks, swaying unsteadily on her dun-striped legs.

The season makes her reckless. She doesn’t wait for an answer, lurching forward to press herself against the warm, sculpted body of her long-lost love. “Rivaini,” she sobs, curling her neck over muscled withers and pulling in close. “Tatlı bezelye, seni seviyorum. Seni seviyorum ve çok üzgünüm.”“Sweet pea, I love you. I love you and I’m so sorry.”

Acutely afflicted, weak, and compromised as she is, Çiçek slides back into the tongue of her foalhood… and doesn’t notice, not even for a second, that the stranger she clings to so desperately is not her cherished sweet pea at all, but another beast entirely.