Common

Halcyon; the name had meant nothing to her when she had first heard it. A pawn to her game with Solomon to further her own endeavors. But in time, the name grew to the warrior queen from pawn to girl, and from girl to mare. Fritjof’s mare. The future Shore Queen. Xiomara had yet to see any real aspects of a Queen in the young mare, but when it had become apparent; even from afar, that the girl was pregnant, Halcyon became one of the biggest assets to her herd. A beacon to the future whether by force or by blood. So, when the pale painted mare pried herself from Fritjof’s side, a rare thing of itself, Xiomara noticed. Especially as she tossed herself to the tides in what seemed to be a distraught manner. Foolish the Queen thought, but she moved after her none the less. But rather than leading Xiomara to Tinuvel as she had expected, and almost hoped for, Halcyon lead her towards the Commons instead. A strange and worrisome change that drove Xiomara to try and swim faster.


Despite her struggle, the young mare had already disappeared by time Xiomara pulled herself up onto the shore of the Commons. Giving a harsh snort of agitation, the Queen then tried to drag in the young girl’s scent. After getting a nose full of water on the way over from a hateful wave, all Xiomara could smell was salt. It made tracking Halcyon impossible. The Shore Queen felt completely blind in that moment, despite looking out across the expanse of winter covered land. The freshly falling snow was too thick to even leave a single track for her to follow.


“Stupid girl.” Xiomara hissed in frustration before she began to aimlessly wander, hoping to catch a glimpse of Halcyon anywhere. If some stallion dared to touch her in the condition she was in, Xiomara would shred them worse than any wolf would do. Never mind that she was in the same way as Halcyon. It was only when she did find fresh tracks in the snow that Xiomara let out a breath of tension she hadn’t realized she had been holding. They were small, delicate, like what Halcyon would leave.


Following the tracks, hurrying so that they wouldn’t be buried in the snow like before, Xiomara only stopped when she came to the deep crevice. Her eyes strain against the darkness, knowing that whoever she had been following was now inside. But she knew now, it hadn’t been Halcyon that had lead her here. The girl would glow like a moon in such shadows, and Xiomara took a tentative, brave step forward. Though she didn’t recognize the face (or rather, tail, as she turns her back thinking the echoes of her breathing are from the inside) Xiomara now saw as her eyes adjusted, nor the voice as it calls out, the Queen does recognize the scent that now overcomes the smell of salt in her nose.


“This isn’t where you belong.” The words tumble from her mouth before she even realizes she has spoken them. But Xiomara does not regret them. The Queen stands as steadfast as her words, unsure if she should feel threatened for finding the mare who had claimed her home in her absence. Or gratitude for the fact she had not chased out her crippled, smart mouthed son.