Common

Faolain still ached from the battle.

She had mostly gotten over her wounded pride, and come to realize that this was for the best - she was not yet ready for the terms of the challenge she had put out, and she still benefitted from the results despite her loss. But her muscles were still stiff and sore, and her limp was ever more pronounced after agitating an existing, stubborn wound.

But she could not hide away forever, even to heal. The black mare had poured all of her time and energy into Rivaini and Hades, but now, with the colt mostly able to keep himself out of trouble and Rivaini mostly healed from delivery, it was time for Faolain to stretch her legs a little. The Ridge would never be stale to her, but a swim had sounded good for a few days now. A change of scenery might help her get rid of those lingering feelings of failure from the battle, and she needed to release those in order to move forward, and the Ridge sorely needed to move forward.

The gentle rocking of the sea was exhausting but therapeutic. By the time she reached the pale sands of the Crossing, she was panting quite heavily, and her muscles burned with strain. But it was not an unpleasant feeling, and her tired limbs moved in satisfyingly slow strides down the shore. She almost did not see the white mare standing in the sand; the brilliantly pale coat seemed to reflect the colors surrounding, and she looked almost like a mirror. Faolain stopped, watching her for a few breathless moments. She had never seen a coat like that.

It took another few seconds for the ‘Teke mare to sense the anxiety rolling off the ghostly mare. She seemed to be coming out of a daze, but the scent of fear still clung to the sea air surrounding her, and this snapped Faolain out of her hypnosis. She flowed forward across the sand, her movements purposeful but still slow - she did not want to frighten the mare further. Faolain might have stood almost a full hand shorter than the ghostly mare, but she knew that did not make much difference when it came to intimidation.

She halted a few steps away, offering a low nicker of greeting to the blinding mare. Her still-sodden tail swung lazily across her hind legs, and her ears cupped curiously forward, muzzle extended to exchange breaths if the other mare accepted the gesture.

”Are you lost?” she asked directly, her tone gentle, her face uncharacteristically open. Faolain was a master of minding her own business most days, but today she felt like trying something new. ”I can accompany you, if that is the case - I know the area.”

faolain

mare // 6 // EE aa // 14hh