The turning of the seasons in the Ridge became easier to track the longer Faolain lived in its tropical, lush embrace. Time still seemed a bit blurred, but the dark mare attributed that to climatic differences between Atlantis and the rest of the islands. While the other lands went through the warmth of spring and summer, the Ridge endured frequent, heavy rains; and during the chilly months of autumn and fall across the archipelago, the Ridge simply dried.

Faolain knew Fall was approaching. The rains were beginning to slow across the mountainous territory, but they still fell regularly, and the black mare was grateful for the many shelters to be found both beneath the thick canopy of jungle, and in shallow caves on the side of the Ridge’s namesake as well. She spent much of her time with Rivaini and Hades in one of these caves, and made an effort to seek out Çiçek and Kudzu whenever she could. She made sure her golden friend knew of the caves, and knew that she was welcome in the cozy space with herself and her Guardian, but she did not want to push Çiçek if she needed space. Primarily, Faolain was just happy to see that her beloved friend was alive and (mostly) alright. She hoped the resident birds, soon to be joined by their migratory brethren, would help cheer her Sun up again.

Faolain knew that Fall was approaching, but for reasons not limited to the changing of the weather, and the small handful of birds that had come early in the season. The black mare did not consider herself young, but she was far from old, so it should not have been odd that her body was responding to the changing of the season. She knew what it was to experience heat, but Faolain had always known it affected her much less than most mares. She had never felt much different during her season; maybe slightly more irritable, but nothing more. Never... driven. She wondered if, due to the nature of the Ridge’s population, or maybe her proximity to Rivaini during her pregnancy and childbirth, something inside of her that had lain dormant her whole life had been awakened. She loved the children of the Ridge, and she loved Hades as though he were of her own flesh, but she felt... untried? Undeserving? Faolain felt in some way as an incomplete mother, as though she had skipped integral steps - which, essentially she had. She had not sacrificed her own flesh and blood to bring any of them into the world, and for this reason she felt like something of an imposter. She could not really tell if this was her hormones commanding her brain to rationalize the act, or if it was genuine logic, but the thoughts had taken hold in her mind and she could not shake them.

Faolain did not know what to do with this development. Twice now she had been challenged by stallions for the right to cover her, and she had avoided that term only once. She did not want to tell Rivaini about Cullen’s demands, but she knew she could never lie to her beloved Guardian - and it wasn’t like she wouldn’t find out, if Faolain lost the fight. The Ridge leader’s relationship with Cullen was more straightforward than her relationship with Rougaru had been when he had challenged her, nearly a year ago now. It certainly wasn’t better, but in the event of a child between them, Faolain found herself having an easier time deciding how to navigate the involvement of the potential foal’s father; essentially, there would be none if she could help it. It was not the bond Rougaru wanted in his terms, and Cullen did not live so close that she expected to see him often - or at all. She did not suspect he was as doting a father as Rougaru, and that was preferable to her in this situation. Out of the two terms Cullen had laid out for her, however, the possibility of a child was the one that bothered her the least.

It was one of the season’s lingering rainy days, and water streamed down the silvery scars on Faolain’s midnight hide as she neared the end of a patrol. She had only been alone for a couple of hours at this point, but suddenly felt terribly lonely. The cave was not far, but Faolain picked up a lazy trot to cover the remaining distance, wet fronds slapping her sides and depositing their stores of rain into her already-saturated fur. She let out a call that was close to desperation in its tone. Suddenly, the need for Rivaini by her side was overwhelming.

faolain

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