I am not fickle, not by choice.

Recent events have seen me stumbling back on my word more times than I care to admit and even though I do so as a result of having no other choice, my pride is still wounded and I still feel horribly hypocritical. I’m not supposed to be here; I had vowed to the depths of the night that I would never return. I guess it is just thankful that no-one bore witness to that night and that the promise I broke by returning to the islands was a promise I held with only myself.

Although having to crawl back with my tail between my legs is mortally embarrassing, it isn’t nearly as painful as what drove me to leave- who, sorry, who drove me to leave. She didn’t mean to, which makes the matter all the more ridiculous for it only leaves me to blame and thus the whole shit fight of the last couple of years is completely on me. I came to this realisation some time ago but still it holds weight, too much weight for me to carry any longer.

I leave my memories of the timid dame right there in the long grass, right alongside my guilt, shame and pride and I step away with a resigned breath.

I spy the lagoon itself a little way ahead of me, sitting peacefully on the horizon like an oasis among the dry scrub that hasn’t quite bounced back from winter. I leap towards it with no reservations, my black locks carelessly trailing out after me. My large hooves find the ground quickly and I pick my way towards the water with my broad skull dipped towards the ground.

I strategically keep away from the various trees and uneven ground; I stay where I am visible and also limit the chances of a surprise attack. My greying nose is tickled by lingering scents and they seem to be leading me towards the water. I continue without giving much thought as to whose scent I am following. I had been trailing Psych, the painted brute I found in the Commons, but not knowing his social standings within the mob I slipped away after we left our meeting place.

The kid seems alright, would probably strike up another conversation with him if the opportunity presents but for all I know he could be the village idiot and I didn’t really want to be rocking up hand in hand with him. I look for his tri coloured pelt though as I slow briefly behind the vegetation that surrounds the waterhole.

The highset sun reflects brightly off the calm water, illuminating my dappled grey hide making me all the more obvious. I have no doubt that someone will come soon to question my intentions and so I bide my time like the wise man I am by dropping my skull and kicking my feathered heels into the air. I throw myself this way and that, pigrooting along the mottled grass and snorting as I go before looping around and squealing as I rear towards the cloud-less spring sky. I drive my hooves back towards the ground with a satisfying thud and with eyes alight I challenge the world. I’m home.