He’s back again, slinking through the Commons and watching for any sign of the annoying little Peak mares. After the disaster with Firestorm, he hadn’t expected to be back here so soon. But the Badlands grow empty, with Viveka gone and most of his herd spread out, keeping their distance. Darshan has been waffling between returning to the Prairie and staying with Khan; Mirage struggled so much with birthing Arsenic that Rafe has hardly seen her. Klara tends to stay close by, but as Spring trudges on and her belly grows with child, she grows quieter and more reserved.
The last conversation he shared with Marceline is ever-present in his head; half of Salem is no longer aligned with them, and one of Marceline’s enemies holds the Dunes. Zevulun continues to be a thorne in his side - as if it wasn’t enough that he absconded with Viveka, he’s now aligned himself with Joachim. The Peak is still doggy his every move, and Rafe needs more support, more allies here. But inevitably, he does not land on Atlantis or Luthien or Tinuvel to seek allies, instead haunting the Commons like a ghost.
It pays off, this time - a pretty reddish-grey mare, slim and desert built, fine lines and a dished face. She emerges hesitantly, and glances around before settling in to eat. Rafe watches for a few long moments, eyeing up the black figures on the horizon, ears flicking in interest as he tries to decide if the Peak are among those distant observers. No one makes a beeline for him, and so he approaches the mare before anyone else can. When he’s close enough to be heard but still a polite distance away, Rafe extends his muzzle in greeting and murmurs, “Hello,”. His icy gaze slides across her, unashamedly appreciative. After all, she is here in the Commons, and everyone knows there is only one reason anyone comes to this desolate place.