Faolain was roused from her daze by a gentle bleat near her hooves.

She stood in the sand, staring unseeing out over the waves, but the pitiful sound pulled the veil from her head and she turned to look at its source. When had she gotten to the sea? Where was Rivaini?

Why was the air sharp with the tang of blood?

Behind her, a tiny bundle squirmed beneath the curtain of her tail. The fog in Faolain’s mind blew away at the sight, and she remembered the dream she had been having, and pieced together that somewhere in that dream she had come to reality. The feeling that had initially driven her down the Ridge to the ocean had been so surreal, and she had walked as though still asleep towards the waves. She had felt the press of her child within her, reaching for the world outside.

It had apparently not been a dream at all, and as the whimsical memories of her stroll down the steep slope came back, so too did the memories of pain. The squeezing of her barrel, the painful wrench in her gut, the great discomfort of a rough stone in her hip as she struggled to free the two bodies from one another. But this was all secondary, and seemed far away as her glittering copper gaze looked upon the spindly thing in the sand behind her. The creature that had drawn her here to the sea, that had writhed free of the protective embrace of Faolain’s body.

Its blue eyes seemed to stare through the ‘Teke mare. Faolain turned to follow the foal’s gaze, but only the sea and the night sky lay beyond the two of them, and even though the child was now free, it seemed still to be called by the waves. Faolain turned back to the child - a filly, she realized - and drew her tongue gently across the girl’s staring eyes.

At once, she seemed roused, brought back to this world from wherever she had been wandering before. She bleated again, and with Faolain’s help, toddled to her feet. A new sound had drawn Faolain’s attention, and she was eager to confront any disturbance, despite the ache of her tired body. Before Vesper could reach for her to nurse, Faolain was moving, gently ushering the tiny foal along with her. She wanted to call out for Rivaini, and might have had she been alone. But out in the open, accompanied by an infant, it was too risky. Even investigating the beach was risky, but there was an urgency in those soft shuffling sounds that told her it was important. She padded along the waves, one ear trained on her daughter staggering along behind her, the other cupped forward to listen for whatever lay ahead.

As the shapes came into view, Faolain understood the sounds. Siobhan stood before her, urging a tiny white shape to its feet, but Faolain recognized that this was not Siobhan’s child. Vesper protested softly behind her, and Faolain slowed as she drew close, nickering softly to the red mare and allowing the pitch filly to catch up. “Who is this?” she breathed, dipping her whiskered muzzle down to breathe the scent of the white filly, but Siobhan was already moving. Faolain did not have to guess why, and she hastened after, once again urging Vesper on.

In the shelter of the jungle, Faolain let Siobhan slip away. She lingered where the red mother left her, and stood still in the shadows of the canopy. Vesper slipped wistfully into the trees behind her, and circled Faolain clumsily once before pressing her tiny nose into her mother’s leg. She nosed around for a bit, seemingly in no hurry to find her meal. Eventually, she stumbled upon the correct place, apparently on accident, and nursed hungrily as Faolain stood. The black mare remained alert, fluted ears twisting this way and that, expecting at any moment to hear someone - or something - creep close.