The wind swirled around him up here, tugging his body in every direction and none at the same time. For a moment the Iscariot even gave in to that pull, closing his pale eyes and leaning into the thin air with reckless abandon. It was the sort of thing that Roisin might have done if she were with him— pushing back at the boundaries of the world with a courage and strength that he could never match. For the pearly stallion, this was less an act of rebellion and more an act of surrender. As with the day Faolain had come to find him, he was choosing to leave his thoughts and emotions behind him, choosing to give into something else entirely. Something that both thrilled and terrified him; a leap that—

Iscariot!

Inhaling sharply and skittering back from the edge, Rivaini’s brother crashed back into himself with an abruptness that sent the earth spinning. By the time it stopped, the tawny girl had joined him in his contemplation, peering down at the same meadow. From here, the tiny white flowers that dotted it looked like flakes of snow that had somehow survived the sun’s warmth. From here, it didn’t look at all like a place where he could belong— no more than his place at Roisin’s side. It’s pretty up here. The sound of his friend’s voice drew the perlino’s gaze, but Siobhan’s daughter stared determinedly ahead. He was right. There was definitely something wrong and it rose like a wall of ice between them, cold and hard despite the softness of her voice.

Starting to feel like home. Iscariot knew the lie for what it was, but he hummed a response anyway, looking down again. Looking anywhere but at the young mare— how similar they were, beneath the stark differences of their appearance— and yet thinking of nothing else. Roi was unhappy, and her sorrow sent an ache pulsing through his own chest. It didn’t matter whether or not he understood why; when she hurt, the stallion did too. But there was still the possibility that he could help to ease her burden, and that’s what kept him going against the weight of whatever failure he was guilty of this time. Turning back to face the girl at the same moment her gaze found his, Iscariot released the breath he’d been holding in a gentle sigh— and then flinched at the unexpected punch of her words.

When are you planning to go back? From the beginning, he’d known that this could not last forever, but to have his welcome worn out so quickly… The white male took a step backwards, his eyes wide and wounded. "Back?" He echoed, tumbling over and over in the swirl of his thoughts and reaching for anything that might stop this headlong plummet. "I didn’t— I mean, I haven’t planned. To go back, that is." Cold iron hands squeezed at his sides; he could barely breathe. Did she really want him to go? "I thought that you wanted me here, Roi. And I want to be here with you."

Iscariot was better than his companion not at lying, but at speaking the truth in a way that still hid what he felt. He wasn’t any happier in the Peak than he’d been in the Ridge, but he did want to to be here for as long as she was here, too.

He did.