Izzy, overjoyed, finally ceases her enthused circling more or less in front of Collision as she bounces on her front hooves. She tells him of every flower she's discovered which reminds her of the new game she's made up in the trees overlooking their valley which reminds her to tell him how good she's gotten at hide and seek, and on and on she follows each tangent before finally she stops for breath and lays out the biggest news of all: “And we made a friend! Jay lives here now, too, and he looks just like you 'cept his ears are curly. He's such a good swimmer and now I can swim, too, and—” she pauses briefly to dart her eyes at her mother as heat rises to her cheeks before she draws herself up and continues, a hint of defiant pride in her suddenly older voice, “And I've met some others who live on the Peak, as well. Other foals,” she adds with another glance at Rhadra.
The black mare has stepped closer to Collision during all this, one ear half intent on her daughter's enthusiastic chatter as she investigates more closely the marks on Collision's body. There's a fresh bite on his shoulder, an ugly, open thing, and several more scattered down his back. Bruises are more easily hid but she does not doubt that somewhere under his fine black and white coat there is soreness and aches. Rhadra leans her chest gently against his barrel and reaches over to clean his shoulder as he describes his journey. The life of a stallion is, in many ways, more brutal than that of a mare. There are other scents on his coat, a blend of mare and stallion under salt and sweat and sea, familiar but not in a way she can immediately place. Rhadra wonders if Collision is telling the full truth when he describes Shenzi's circumstances— did he leave his friend willingly, or was he driven from her side by her new stallion?
“Cullen?” Rhadra repeats, the name neutral on her tongue for it carries no weight when not paired with that ferocious golden face. “From when you lived in the Lagoon?” She glances at Izzy, who avoids her eyes for a moment before meeting her gaze squarely, and Rhadra is torn between maternal disappointment at the inevitable surge of independence in her daughter and joy at Izzy's admittance of such a bold thing, venturing off on her own with nary a word to her mother as if she's never in her life felt a minute of fear. The black mare finds it telling, too, that her daughter is comfortable enough with Collision to use him as a sort of buffer between her rebellion and Rhadra's reaction to it; for all that the white-faced stallion did not sire Isabella, he has been an excellent stand in for a father, and it is clear to her, at least, that Izzy is as devoted to him as any daughter. “Yes, Jay Azuli has been a wonderful playmate for Izzy. We found him by a creek in the foothills. Poor thing looked lost as a hatchling parted from his flock,” Rhadra adds in an undertone for Collision's sake.
Izzy's breath hitches. A series of emotions flicker across her face: panic, fear, and shame displaced by a sudden desperate grasp at anger, and the girl's ears fall flat as she defends her pseudo-brother. “He's not poor. He's the best swimmer around, better'n anybody! Bet he could outswim both of you, easy!” Izzy yells, chest heaving. Abruptly she turns on her heels and bolts away. “You'll see! I'll find him, and you'll see!” the girl calls over her shoulder. She slows to a trot, then stops midway across the sloped field and scans the area with her sweet head held high, ostensibly looking for the marwari youth. Her ears remain turned deliberately away from the adults.
Almost, Rhadra lets the outburst pass without comment as she finishes tending to Collision's wound. Then, as she draws her head back to inspect the bite and ensure it is as clean as she can make it, she says quietly, “There was a raid while you were gone. Two stallions, I don't know what for, tried to force Izzy and me away from here. Jay wanted to fight them off with the Peak warriors who came to our aid. He has a great heart for so young a boy, and has been quite protective of Izzy.” Rhadra presses her lips against his coat, eyes gone afar as she recalls the day. It had been stressful, yes, and not something she'd care to repeat, but she doesn't hold the memory close like Izzy does. “She's not been the same, since. Nightfall is quite difficult. Today, seeing you— this is the most carefree I've seen her in months, Collision.”
Rhadra looks at him frankly, then lips at his skin and shifts to stand shoulder to shoulder so that she might lean her weight a little against him. “I'm glad you're back,” she says. “Izzy's not the only one who's missed you.” To admit it surprises even herself, but, she reflects unselfconsciously, it's true. Collision is more home to her than a novel stranger on the beach, and beside him her loneliness abates.
rhadra