She waited, and one day she thought she’d waited too long. Her eyes met the rise of the sun and glossed with tears, heart aching in her chest and climbing up her throat, threatening to be a sob. Avangeline wanted to be home; more than anything, she wanted to be home. The next best thing to the valley of her birth, as that seemed to be less of an option as each day passed, were in the friendships she’d made at the islands. They were scarce, as Avangeline tended to stick to the side of her black-as-night companion and only watched others with interest from afar… but there had been one night, right before dawn broke the horizon, that Avangeline had met another.
Björn. To think of his name was to think of his face and it put a smile on Avangeline’s. She blinked away the mist of unshed tears, turned away from the rising sun as it reached its light through the trees, and sighed softly. She’d waited too long to visit him on the island he lived, Luthien. But she’d not yet told Al-Hattaal that she had met him, just as she’d never once told Björn that she traveled with a stallion who’d promised to protect her. It never seemed like the right time to tell Al-Hattaal, or that was the excuse that she told herself.
Avangeline knew she should tell him now that she had made a friend and wished to go visit him, but… she didn’t want to. Instead she waited until he wished to go elsewhere in search of his sister, and eagerly elected to stay behind on Crossing Isle. Once she thought he was gone, Avangeline made for the shoreline that would offer the closest swim to Luthien, and struck out with her long legs through the surf.
Her heart beat fast with excitement as she climbed the shore, gold coat shining as water rolled from her skin. Along her thin neck, Avangeline bore something she hadn’t when she and Björn last met: a bruise. It was healing, though still slightly tender to the touch; a soft lump over what had previously been smooth, unmarred skin. But, as it was not in a place where it would become irritated when she walked, Avangeline hardly thought of it.
Rather than moving toward the expansive terrain of tall grass that she and Al-Hattaal had last went to, Avangeline moved toward the line of trees, assuming that would be where she would find her friend. The dappled shade was cooler than being in direct sunlight, particularly as her mane and tail were still damp. Avangeline walked quietly, marveling at the beauty of the Forest, blooming in summer hues, certain trees on the verge of shifting to reds, yellows, and browns as autumn drew close.
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