Briar felt a nudge, soft but insistent, upon her shoulder. Fatigue begged her to slip back into sleep, but she opened her weary blue eyes and gazed down at the striped colt standing beside her. “Yes, Larkspur?”
“How come it’s snowing here, but that island is still green?” She followed his gaze, spotting the far-off isle floating adrift in the sea. It was small, but she could see its lushness from here, and a thin stripe of gold where the sand met the water. The sabino suppressed a sigh, instead flicking her chocolate ears back and pressing her muzzle to the colt’s temple.
“Don’t you remember? All of the other islands are different than ours. We may have ice and snow and the great white bears, but others have great red rocks, or neverending forests. Some change with the seasons, and some stay the same.” She focused on the island in question once more. ”That one, sweetling, is Atlantis. It stays green year-round and is warmer in the depths of Winter than it is here at midsummer. And there are more plants and animals than you can count.”
Larkspur stared off into the horizon, eyes wide. “Wow,” he mumbled, his voice filled with awe. “Can we go there sometime?” He pressed into her side, creamy tail wagging. “Please?”
Briar grinned, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Someday, love. Perhaps come Spring, when you’re older.” She turned from the water, then, making her way up the beach and inland. The brindle colt stayed for a moment, gazing out at the sea. Grandma always said that when he asked to go exploring: Maybe someday. When would someday be today? When would he finally stop merely looking at those far-off lands and actually go and explore them? The wind tossed his growing mane about, teasing, and he made up his mind. He would not wait until Spring. He would brave the waters, cross the channel that separated him from the rest of his homeland, and see the wonders of the other Islands for himself. And one day, when he was older and stronger and had ventured across all of the islands here, he would go to the mainland and find his parents.
The colt was contemplating his coming adventures when the wind shifted, bringing with it a scent unknown to him. It was not the sweet, musky smell of his granddam, nor that of Winter or Laurel or any of the other mares that sparsely haunted the Inlet. It was sharp, strong, and insistent; it demanded to be acknowledged, to be recognized, and it had the same pungent quality of the roan stallions he’d seen around every once in a while, but it was... somewhat different. He tipped his muzzle up, flaring his nostrils, and puzzled over it for a moment before turning and bounding through the frosted sand and up into the new-fallen snow.
“Grandma!” He called to Briar’s retreating form, and she stopped, waiting for him to catch up. “Can you smell that?” She flared her nostrils, and suddenly her expression darkened, her ears folding into her mane. She began to walk again, though this time she moved with purpose, her pace quick. “Come along, Larkspur,” she called, and he hesitated. “But why? Who is it?” He trotted to catch up, his gaze alternating between her and the direction the scent had come from. “Grandma, where are we going?”
“Never mind that. Just follow me.” She wouldn’t give him any more details, so he followed her, dragging his hooves and staring around. What Briar didn’t tell him was that the new scent scattering the area was that of a new stallion, one who’d presumably claimed the Inlet for his own - or come to pick off any mares left unguarded by the lack of a band stallion to protect them. Solgar had tolerated the presence of a colt that was not his, but other males were different. It was the beginning of breeding season, and Briar, though old, was still fertile. If she didn’t get Larkspur into hiding soon enough and the new stallion came upon them, what might he do? Would he harm the grandson she’d fought so hard to protect?
She didn’t want to stick around and find out.