Autumn had swept across the islands, bringing with it a fiery array of reds, yellows, and oranges that painted the canopies. The crisp scent of dried grass clung to the breeze and the sky was nearly cloudless, save a few wandering cirrus. Evrain had found solace amidst a copse of withering oaks at the edge of the commons where forest, sea, and field met. He had arrived to the island mid-afternoon, having grown bored of patrolling the Hills over and over. With autumn in full force he felt compelled to leave Salem and try his luck on the Crossing. He'd managed a tryst or two so far but still his hormones raged, driving him from his home and to more fruitful territory. Yet he'd had no luck, and the young king felt annoyed that he hadn't properly pinned any mares down yet. Any chump could knock a mare up, but getting her to stay was the hard part - at least in his extremely limited experience, anyway.
When he'd first become king Evrain had been determined not to claim any mare. But as the months wore on and the Hills remained quiet he began questioning his stance. It wasn't like claiming had to be an ugly, terrible, forceful thing, right? He knew, in the back of his mind, that he was trying to find a way to justify what he knew was a terrible thing - keeping a mare that didn't want to be kept - but he was desperate to see the Hills thrive as they once had. Was this the kind of pressure Marceline had felt? Was this weight what had driven her to condone Işık's actions?
Evrain shook the unpleasant thought of his mother from his mind, fluted ears flipped back in annoyance. He'd spent all afternoon playing should I, shouldn't I in his head and the last thing he wanted was thoughts of Marceline getting him worked up. Instead of wasting his time wondering about a dead woman he turned his attention to the serene panorama before him, savoring a deep breath of crisp autumn air. The boy king watched as the sun began to wane and the bodies around him slowly scattered. Mares were picked up by band stallions or had returned to the ones they'd left behind, and those that weren't left to find safe haven elsewhere. Eventually the Common was left empty and without the usual lively chatter the crickets were free to fiddle their tunes, the moon their maestro and the stars their enraptured audience. All was still, until -
Um, hello? a faint voice rang out from down the beach. Evrain had begun to doze but in an instant he snapped awake, head jolting and ears perched forward. That was a real voice he had heard, right? Not some half-conjured dream? Evrain strained to hear, and then: Where is everyone? Did I go to the wrong place?
Yes, that was definitely a voice. Evrain did not give himself time to think or second guess before he set off, his path illuminated in silvery light. It didn't take long for him to spot who he presumed to be the owner of the voice, a young mare with her figure in profile to him as he approached. The moon gave her coat an ethereal glow and it took a small measure of effort on Evrain's part to not stop and stare.
"I dunno," he replied to her unanswered question as he halted a body's length away. "Did you mean to go to the Commons? Because if the answer is no then you're definitely not in the right place." There was no maliciousness to his tone nor any ill intent in the way he peered at her. He was curious and concerned in equal measure and it reflected in the expression he wore. What was a young mare doing in the Commons by herself in the middle of the night? He knew from listening to his mother that there were plenty of scary bedtime stories dams told their daughters about the Commons. Was she lost or simply reckless? he wondered, fixing her with a questioning look.
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