Somewhere along the beach, nestled in the cracks of a large boulder, Briar jerks awake.

She'd been sleeping there, hiding from the snow and the herd, knowing the salty tang of the sea would mask her scent. The black sabino mare had found this spot once she'd left the group those months ago, an old haunt from her younger days, and she had sheltered there ever since, clinging to the ghosts of the past with a fierce, longing iron grip. Her days were spent unconscious, huddled against the smooth walls of the boulder in fitful sleep, and her nights were spent searching, using the convenient cover of darkness to find her old hiding places. She didn't know why she was so obsessed with finding them; perhaps the memories she recalled when she looked upon them gave her comfort. And at times, she found things of her past: items Ivan had collected, or trinkets given to her by her other children. She took these back to her rock, and now there was a small collection of sundry objects for her to focus her energy on. It was naught but a bluejay feather, a shell, and a few stones, among others; little piddly things nobody else even acknowledged, let alone placed any value on. But for Briar it was the world.

Those little objects kept her grounded. They were a beacon, a bright spotlight of warmth and love against the lonely shadows pressing in on her, and she clung to them like a barnacle. She wanted to be conscious. She wanted to remember. The past few years were foggy enough without more added on. Briar still cherished sleep, yes, and it was true she spent a good amount of her time doing it, but her waking moments were precious to her now in a way they hadn't been for a long time. It was easy, then, to wake when the call rang out across the sand towards her.

Briar glanced at her collection, taking a breath, and stumbled out onto the beach, blue eyes blinking against the stark white of the landscape. She picked her way through the snow, towards the source of the noise, and when she found it - found him - she stopped short, gaze going straight for the ground and staying there. Guilt filled her, thick and suffocating.

It was the colt from long ago. The one she'd left to die in the snow.

She hadn't meant to abandon him, wanting to save him, protect him - but the commotion, all the other horses showing up had been too much for her. After years by herself, having so much company overwhelmed her, and she'd had to escape it to avoid shutting down completely. But the wounded colt had been on her mind constantly, and she'd been unable to get the image of him in the snow out of her head. She looked for him, but her attempts had been unsuccessful. Assuming the worst, Briar had tried to move on. But it was so hard.

And now, seeing him standing over the water, more horse than living skeleton - it brought all that grief back. It was like seeing a ghost. Briar couldn't look at him for more than a second, and she stood a fair distance away, sure he wouldn't want to be around her. For all she knew, the colt hated her. She couldn't blame him.

Her words, fragile as thin ice, betrayed the massive shame she felt.

"I am so sorry..." For the last time. For now. For everything.

If only she knew how to fix it.