there was no known animosity from any of the other residents of Atlantis, but marzanna could hardly say the relationships between any of the herd leaders was particularly amicable either. the first and only interaction she’d encountered upon her arrival to the tropical island was to be involved in a challenge to gain the title of monarch of the isle. the loss of it still stung.

the path bordering her own home was well trod by now, though some of the boundary shifted often with mudslides and washouts on the northern border. it was either she or flyns that traveled it regularly, and with ease now that the threat of the panther had passed. It was very rarely that marzanna strayed from that path, feeling much less of an affinity to trouble than she had before flyns had come along, but a niggling feeling of curiosity edged her southward that day, toward paradise.

a shiver of enjoyment runs down the golden mare’s spine as she moves catlike through the dark foliage, the excitement of her exploration offering a welcoming distraction to the season. eventually her large round hooves find a path, one that snakes through the trees in an abrupt winding fashion, and though it is too narrow for her large frame, she takes it anyway. marzanna has heard stories of the stallion who made his home here, though any brief interest she had felt waned quickly when the challenge for monarch was issued and he had shown no ambition to take the title for himself. The golden mare was attracted to power. plain and simple.. and those who had similar tastes.

eventually the path widens some, and marzanna moves more slowly, icy blue eyes watching cautiously for any sign that her presence may have been detected. if it was, she couldn’t say that she would be entirely disappointed, loneliness plagued her, but neither was she eager to give a strange stallion any chance to presume he might take advantage.

the foliage clears a little as the trail broadens, the rich dark earth softening beneath her dish sized hooves. the bank of a pond descends before the dappled mare, it’s surface dark and stagnant looking. at one end marzanna notices a dried out stream bed that must have emptied here during the high water season. this land was much more changeable than the cove had been, almost violently so.

with tentative steps the mare edges forward, lured by the prospect of admiring herself in the still water. her pale mane tumbles forward in tangled locks, obscuring her view for a moment, and though marzanna can see herself out of one bright blue eye, she tosses her head to clear the other so that she might view herself more clearly.

the quick movement causes a sudden disturbance in the water and from the corner of her eye the gilded mare sees a large serpent coiling across the pond. it lurks with its head just above the water, or at least it had been... now, threatened by her movement, the snake rises slightly from the dark murky pond. its size is unfathomable and though she had come in secrecy, the mare lets out a loud breathy snort of fear. the excitement of her trip is lost. without so much as a backward glance, the golden mare launches into a powerful trot, eager to put as much distance distance between her and the monster that lurked in the shadowy pool. perhaps the isle of atlantis had worse monsters than wolves after all.