Common

She’d lost track of how long she’d dwelt here on the Crossing, just beyond the shadow of the mountain, vanishing into the trees whenever someone she recognised approached, or she caught a familiar scent on the breeze. The Islands had ever been wild, the years did not favor looking too kindly on anyone, but as she’d gotten older, the grey mare - Kolfinna - had borne each trial and tribulation with less and less grace.

It was shame that went deep to the very marrow in her bones that had driven her from the places that had been home to her, and had her turning her back on those she loved with everything she was. The loss of her youngest had broken something in her, and she didn’t know if she’d ever be the same again.

She certainly couldn’t bear to look upon Solomon any longer, thoroughly convinced that she had failed him. Twice now. And not even all she had done for Kalanthia could make up for it. That golden child was gone from the Isles, off on some grand adventure. And Menelik. Her first - the boy she’d never meant to abandon… He’d left so long ago. Kolfinna had long given up hope of ever seeing him again. She knew Calfuray was still here. She’d found traces of her scent scattered across the Meadow and amongst the trees of the Falls, but no matter how she called, her daughter did not come to her.

Kolfinna did not blame her. She had needed so much for her daughter to be more than the child she had been, had relied on her too much. Had lost sight of her, thinking that she was alright, to focus instead on Kalanthia, on Faline, on Saul. She’d left Calfuray behind, just as she’d once left her eldest, and would be forced to leave youngest.

Oswin was long gone from the Peak. Solomon and his thriving herd no longer resided in the Cove. Kolfinna hadn’t been a wraith for so long now - she didn’t know what had happened, or when. Only that they were gone, all of them.

Winter crept up on her, woke her one morning with a cold wind, biting at the delicate skin of her face, drying her salt-damp muzzle streaked with tears. A whisper on the wind drew her out of her sheltered hiding spot, and she roamed through the misty dawn, head low, mesmerized by the quiet that seemed to have settled upon the Crossing overnight, complete with a delicate blanket of snow.

It crunched softly beneath her hooves, and when she came upon the barren plain of the Common - that in the summer was a riot of color when wildflowers sprung up after every storm, but now held all the tranquility of a cloudbank on the horizon, muted and quiet, illuminated by the first rays of the rising sun, glinting with hints of pink-gold. Drawing a deep breath, finding it steadied her - the crisp clarity of the air, unmuddled by various scents, the grey mare took a knee in the field, and another. Rolled onto her side, shivering at the cold initially.

The residual heat from her body served to melt the snow beneath her fairly quickly, but she continued to lay there, long after the dampness sunk into her skin and set her to trembling. It was only when she became aware distantly of the sound of someone approaching that, rather reluctantly, she stirred. With effort, she rolled someone upright, one of her forelegs stiff and slow to move.

And she turned her face toward the silhouette she’d observed from the corner of one brown eye, but kept her gaze averted, unable to meet her unexpected companion’s gaze, or look upon their face. All she could think of to say was a whispered “forgive me,” as though just by being there, sprawled on the ground before them, was just another failure on her part, like she couldn’t do anything right anymore.