Rhadra is nosing her way through a particularly juicy patch of clover when the wind carries her name over the mountain. One ear flicks toward it but she does not leave off her meal— not until Izzy bounds over and jostles her shoulder, flinging her forelegs up over her mother's withers and champing at the black mare's coarse mane as she chants, “He's back! He's back!” Izzy tugs insistently on her mother's hair before, abruptly as she arrived, the bay yearling pushes off and flies away over the field. That brings Rhadra's head up— “Isabella,” she calls after her, but the girl does little more than flick her tail like some bounding doe before disappearing around a curve.
The black mare lifts her broad, feathered hooves to trot after her daughter, clover forgotten. She should be pleased to see Izzy so energetic. It is unusual, nowadays, or at least very short-lived. Concern is what first rises to mind, and it spurs Rhadra onward at a faster jog. Of late, Izzy has taken to wandering deliberately away from her, getting up to who knows what; Rhadra can't even be certain her daughter stays on the mountain, not after that last jaunt down to the Falls. For someone so afraid of the dark, Izzy is maddeningly adventurous during the day. Today, for instance, she insisted they explore the western slopes beyond their usual lake-side valley and has been hovering about like a hummingbird rather than doing any exploring as she claimed she wanted to do. For as long as they've lived here, there is still much to be seen of the peak. Rhadra's initial awe of the mountain has been tempered by the mundane routine her days have fallen into since becoming a mother.
No, she corrects herself as she follows her daughter's path. Since that raid. Everything had changed, then. Izzy most of all. Once endlessly inquisitive, now Izzy is reserved and hesitant. It has been painful to witness such a vivid bloom wilt before her petals even had a chance to fully unfurl. Gone is the open, charming girl who romps boldly through the wildflowers. Rhadra can only hope it is not forever, and that with time —and nurturing— her bay daughter will grow into herself once more.
Rhadra clears the turn and sees Izzy ahead, bounding over the rocky field toward a familiar white-faced figure. Her heart jolts, surprised and immediately relieved to see Collision on the slopes again. She throws her head up, her upper body lifting off the ground from the force of her joy as she greets him with a shrill whistle before launching herself into a run. Despite her haste, Izzy still beats her to the painted stallion of whom they have both grown so fond, and the yearling bounces right into his chest in her version of hello. “You're back!” Izzy yells, then points her muzzle skyward to share her joy with the clouds before she races around him in a wide circle. “Collision is back!”
Chuckling, Rhadra joins them as she jogs to a stop at Collision's shoulder, narrowly avoiding her bay-bullet daughter as Izzy zips between the two adults for another circuit. Here is her boisterous, exuberant daughter. It warms her heart to see. "Collision," Rhadra greets her friendly warmly, reaching out to tug gently on his dark mane, checking him subtly for signs of injury. It has been some time since they've shared company, and she recalls what drew him away from the Peak in the first place as she breathes him in. Wind and sand and salt and heat and himself; that, she appreciates most of all. After all that has happened, there is a deep comfort in the familiarity Collision's presence brings. "How was your journey? Did you find your friend?"
rhadra