The oppressive density of Paradise loomed over Faolain as she stood at the border. The neighboring territory was denser than the Ridge, but flatter and easier to traverse. Still, it was more difficult for Faolain to navigate than her own home, which was familiar in its complications and winding, steep paths up and down the mountain.

It had been a long time since Faolain had stepped foot over this border. She had not seen nor heard from Rougaru in seasons, and as far as she knew, Rivaini hadn’t either. Faolain wasn’t complaining. She had never found out from Çiçek exactly what had happened, but the state of the spotted golden mare and the scent on her when she had been found was clear enough. Something bad had happened, and Faolain had yet to confront Rougaru about it. At first, she had avoided this conversation in an attempt to keep the peace, as this would surely disrupt their alliance to some degree. Faolain could not imagine an excuse from the wolf king that might placate her anger on Çiçek’s behalf, and she knew that Rivaini would be even less forgiving. Out of concern for their friend and her children, Faolain had let Rougaru be, and had left their teetering alliance alone.

Now that Çiçek was gone, she no longer had any reason to avoid this discussion. The mouth of Paradise gaped before her, and she stepped into it with a mixture of disdain and anger. Çiçek was hopefully safe from Rougaru wherever she was now, but Faolain was not willing to let this event slide. She let her anger smolder in her throat as she wound through the thick jungle foliage, following the distinct trail of the wolf king.

It wasn’t stale, but it was obvious Rougaru was not as present here as he had been in past visits. Faolain found herself wandering for longer than she had expected in search of the silver bay, growing more frustrated the deeper she dove into the forest. She expected at any moment to round a corner and run into him, but it never happened. But for the crying of birds, Paradise was silent. More frustrated and angry than she had been when she first crossed the border, Faolain turned back to leave.

Before she took more than a step back toward the Ridge, a cry pierced the humid air and silenced the birds. The hot coals of rage Faolain had been nursing flared to life, and she spun on her heels to follow the sound. There was no good scenario she could imagine that involved a cry like that.

But the ginger mare she encountered crumpled on the earth as she burst through the undergrowth was alone, and Faolain slid to a halt in surprise. Cautiously, the black Guardian lowered her nose to inspect the mourning woman. Her shock and disgust grew as she realized how haggard the mare was - her spotted face was gaunt and hollow, the eyes dim. There was no scent of the wolf king on her. It was clear to Faolain (or at the very least, part of her wanted it to be the case) that the mare was hiding from Rougaru.

Gently, Faolain pressed her muzzle against the neck of the ghostly mare, encouraging her to stand. ”You must get up,” she whispered kindly. ”You must come with me.” Her fury was balanced by her concern, and she was reminded of the broken Çiçek hiding in the depths of the Ridge. She did not let her anger come through her voice, but she could not help the sense of urgency that tensed her body and tightened her voice. She had already hardened herself against Rougaru, and prepared for what might become the end of their alliance, but this still felt like a betrayal.

As she stepped away from the ginger mare to see if she would follow, Faolain hardened herself even further. The image of the haunted, dull eyes swam in her mind, and she decided that this negligence and pain was worth the fracture her actions would inevitably cause.