The salt-tanged air smells of home.

As the imposing figure of Atlantis looms into view, a chaotic whirl of emotion roils within the sea of his mind. First relief, because the absence of Cimarron has shown him that even islands are mortal enough to perish. Trepidation. Will it still be the place that haunts his dreams, or will time have altered it, subtly but enough that it can never be home again? Grief, because the beach his eyes first alight upon is the very one where Styrke fought alone. Regret following the surfacing of the most prominent memory in his youth; his promise to Styrke that he would look out for him as a brother. And finally, determination. He must set right what he had wronged in the callowness of youth and seduction - and here, where their differences had begun, surely they could come to an end.

All the same, he cannot bring himself to come aground on that accursed beach, and alters his course. The sandy shoals of the Shore fade into the horizon as he circles around to the far side of Atlantis. Here the jungle is more dense, the foliage extending until it nearly touches the sea - there is only a thin, bare strip of sand for a beach, framed by the lazily drooping palms. Inhaling deeply of the inland breeze, the absence of equine scent is most prominently noted. It is a favorable omen that encourages him to venture ashore, grounding himself with a huff of exertion as the waves push past his golden body. No stranger steps forth from the trees to see him off, no strident scream of challenge shatters the serenity.

Standing steadfast against the battering of the outgoing tide, Rade allows his senses to explore the Eden before him. Though the sun inches closer to its zenith with each passing moment, the cool canopy of the jungle promises sanctuary from the worst of the heat. Concealed where it winds sinuously through the depths of the forest but emerging into the sea to his distant left, a modest-sized river offers a place to quench one's thirst. The electricity of a storm crackles ominously in the air, but Rade knows that the season of tempests is drawing to a close. In any case, he would gladly take the rain over the obscuring blanket of snow that had coated the Crossing, and the frigid temperatures that accompanied it.

Unconsciously, he has begun to drift forward, and the round prints of his hooves are the first in many weeks to mar the pristine sand of the beach. This physical expression of his possession, however, is not enough to satisfy him; with a sharp exhale of breath, Rade's ringing cry is carried inland. The thunder of the heavens is echoed by the thunder of his hooves; racing into the depths of the jungle, even the pouring rain cannot extinguish the first spark of hope he has dared in many seasons.

With a place of his own, his thoughts are now consumed in planning to convince Styrke to share it with him.

Only then could it truly be paradise.

stallion // mongrel // 15.1hh // 4 // palomino roan // reba
debonaire x neassa