Isak's meeting with Faolain had been brief. He sensed her apprehension when he'd broken the dense foliage of the jungle and approached her dark filly. Though Isak meant no harm to either of them, something felt off about the Ridge. The dappled stallion had turned and left Atlantis shortly after. Though Winter had set in for the rest of the Islands, the Ridge faired like most humid places. Chillier in the morning and night, the days shorter, but overall the warmth remainded. As he gave one last surveying glance to the treeline, noting he'd not been followed, he plunged into the frigid winter sea.
The thickly build stag pushed his way through the thickening current. Today was not the best day for a swim and when his thick hooves made purchase on the rocky bottom, he was exhausted. The air was cooler where he'd landed and by the smell, he assumed he must've made it back onto the common grounds of the Islands. His thick mane clung to his neck as he moved away from the crashing ways. As he shook, it slapped violently against his grey hide. He decides to rest his eyes as he slumps into the sandy beach, too tired to move forward. The last thing he recalls as his thickly lashed eyes flutter, is an ominous crow flying overhead.