Transitioning to life as a Lagoon captive had not gone easily for Isla. Though naturally gregarious and friendly, the circumstances of her situation had sharpened her tongue and whittled away her patience. Others with whom she might once have shared a smile and a joke with were now met with pinned ears and bared teeth, and she bore more than a few marks across her body from her insolence despite her best attempts to avoid any and all company.

As fall - and its dangers - waned, however, the loneliness crept back in. Isla had never wanted to be a solitary mare, and the long weeks of anger and anxiety had worn heavily on her, carving lines of worry on a face that traditionally bore a smile. Her naturally round figure had thinned as well, leaving subtle hollows on her flanks and between her ribs; despite the more readily abundant greenery here, she had rarely found moments in which it felt safe to lower her guard to eat.

Her heart ached for the freedom she'd had to wander through the world untethered, visiting herd after herd, trailing her hooves through tall Luthien grasses and scuffing them against soft Atlantean sand. Skirting the cold mountain foothills of the Peak and leaping among the rocky crags of the Ruins. Now, the biggest adventure she could go on was leaping from boggy hillock to boggy hillock in a vain attempt to keep her fetlocks dry.

She crept out beneath a wan sky one winter's morning, hoping that the chill in the air would mean that some of the shallower areas might have frozen over enough to allow for easier travel. An apprehensive look around her revealed no obvious impending company and so she set out across the lagoon, hunting a quiet and secluded spot where she might be able to grab a few mouthfuls of grass before seeking out one of the other mares she'd seen lurking in the shadows.