Common

The dark of night left him restless, as it often did. With nothing to distract his thoughts from the things that worried him, he was left to pace in circles until the feelings passed. And when they did not - when not even the crisp light of dawn served to chase away the doubts and fears that plagued him - he sought further release in swimming. He had no destination in mind, no goal. Only to swim as far, and as long as he could. To move and keep moving until his muscles gave out from the strain and exhaustion claimed the relentless circling of his thoughts.

He did not make it far.

Movement on the shore of the Crossing drew his eye and he changed course to paddle toward the reddish mare. Something about her kept drawing his gaze in, but he could not place the feeling. It was not recognition, not quite, but something akin to it. She felt familiar to him in a way that he simply could not name, and so despite the fact that he was far from being in need of more herd members, he angled closer and came ashore some distance down the beach.

The bulky tobiano stallion that approached her was also familiar, although Solomon did not have a problem placing this one despite their lack of camaraderie. He had once faced down the Desert lead in a battle over Mazarine and had emerged successful. Despite this, he held no animosity toward Cain. The Desert king had simply served as an outlet for the extreme frustration he'd felt at Feray's denial of his offer.

From a short distance, Solomon watched as the stout stallion approached the red woman, his own brow still furrowed as he searched his memory to place the feeling of recognition that jostled in the back of his mind. He knew that he knew her from somewhere, and had a sense that he should know. That she had once been important to him somehow. Slowly, he moved forward, his gaze flicking to Cain momentarily as he settled before resting on the red mare again.

"Lost." He finishes for the stout stallion, a small smile curling along the mottled edges of his lips. "Like most of us do when we come ashore for the first time."

It occurs to him, almost belatedly, that he should perhaps be more defensive or territorial in the presence of a rival stallion, but he finds he lacks the energy. So much had happened as of late that the thought of posturing and preening and maneuvering his words to carefully garner the upper hand seemed like a monumental waste of time. In truth, if it hadn't been for the familiarity he felt, he might have held back, despite her beautiful face. The last thing he needed was to develop feelings for another mare that might destroy them as easily and as readily as Cicek and Sabriel.

Solomon's expression softens as he searches her face before deciding to throw her bone. "You've made it to the Lost Islands. I'm Solomon, of the Cove," he gestures to the stallion at his side. "And this is Cain, still of the Desert, I imagine."

Only then does his gaze sharpen on her. He could allow the conversation to go down a more natural path, to twist and turn through the various flirtations that she and Cain, or even he and her, may share, but he finds himself lacking patience. Until he could place her, he was not particularly certain what avenue he even wanted this to go down. What if he knew her because she had been a part of the Peak at some point, or if she perhaps belonged to someone like Feray. "Forgive me - I feel like I should know you from somewhere. Have we met?"

Solomon