The Lost Islands
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dark mirror


you shouldn’t walk where the hemlock grows

The midday sun pressed heavily on the Ridge, pulling moisture from its many streams and springs, thickening the air and causing glittering droplets of moisture to sit perpetually on Faolain’s coat without evaporating. It was a muggy, lazy day - a good day to do absolutely nothing.

Unfortunately for the lithe black mare, laziness did not come easily, especially in states of anxiety. Surely she was less afraid than she had anticipated once she knew her condition was certain, but the nerves still lived quietly beneath her skin, making it difficult to remain still. This was cause for Faolain to meander sluggishly through the Ridge, making her way in no particular rush and with no particular destination in mind. She was not exactly comfortable in the suffocating humidity, but the shade of the trees was nice, and after some time she decided that maybe she should just embrace the moisture and see if a swim might help her to cool down. In contrast to the heat of the jungle, the ocean was usually pleasantly chilly - at least enough to enjoy on Atlantis’s hotter days.

As the sounds of the surf grew louder and the soft breeze was strengthened with the smell of brine, Faolain heard a squeal not far away. Her slender ears cupped forward as she continued her stroll, and soon enough the ocean came into view. Plodding through the sand toward her was Finch, the filly Solomon had delivered to Rivaini a few seasons ago. Faolain let out a whinny to the foal, who looked discouraged as she trudged away from the water’s edge. She met Finch at the edge of the trees and extended her dark muzzle to exchange breaths. She noted with some amusement that Finch, not even a year old, was already nearly as tall as Faolain. It was not the first time she was reminded of her short stature, especially by the rapidly growing foals that inhabited the Ridge. They were really the only ones over whom she had the advantage of height, but that was changing quickly.

“Hello, Finch,” she greeted, reaching out to lip at one of the pale filly’s splayed ears. “Too hot for you, too? I was going to swim a little to cool down. You’re welcome to join me.”
mare - six - EEaa - 14hh - Ridge


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