†
Temblor travels south carefully, mulling over all he has learned while monitoring the ache in his right hip. The swim home is going to be taxing, he can already tell, but he is beginning to feel uneasy at being away from Paradise for as long as he has. It is one thing to step across a border and meet a neighbor; the Peak is an entire island away and any number of things could delay his return to Atlantis. A passing squall might churn the ocean to impassable, for instance, or some other violent, unexpected act of nature, and for every moment he is not there diligently patrolling his borders there is an opportunity afforded to those who would seek to slip past his radar and set their own claim on his land.
As nothing short of setting foot in Paradise will alleviate his concerns in that regard, Temblor shakes off the weight of his concerns and mulls over instead his conversation with the Peak's Prime Minister the day before. Prime Minister. The very title speaks to how unprepared he was for what he discovered; certainly he is no longer under the same illusions he had been on his way into the foothills. The idea that a band of mares might choose to live apart from men is something he still finds quite foreign, an idea he'll be reflecting on frequently in the days to come. Still, he is glad he went, and can only hope the impression he left upon Oswin was favorable.
His path cuts through a meadow and he slows a little, not only to ease the growing throb in his hip but also to appreciate the expanse before he hems himself in once more in Paradise. Glades like this are rare in the jungle, and even then it's so humid and hot under the sun one hardly wants to be exposed to any more light than they have to. His opinion of his current home is not often kind, but he recognizes the necessity of claiming a space for himself and has contented himself, for now, with his choice.
There is one other occupant in the meadow, a silvery mare with a shock of chestnut hair flowing from her rump and a couple of copper patches at her chest and flank. His path is perpendicular to where she stands and will bring him past her front only a couple of horselengths away. He can see her head is likewise dipped in copper, save for the blaze stretching the length of her nose. Temblor slows, conscious of the empty home he's been in such a rush to get back to, and reminds himself that his plans are impossible without the support of a herd— and it's the herd that matters, not so much the territory. Land is easy to acquire. A quality herd is a less assured find.
He slows as he draws near, uttering a friendly whicker before he pauses entirely to regard her with lifted ears and a leftward lean, casually tipping up his right hind to reduce the pressure on his injury. "Good morning," he greets her, noting the apprehension in her eyes. His gaze flicks to where she had been looking a moment ago, and he nods his head at the distant trees. "Trouble at your back?"
TEMBLOR
& swallows you whole
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