Abigail had never known such coldness could exist. Born and raised in the tropics, her life had always been golden sand, jungles bursting with color, and humid air that made one feel damp and sticky. This island, this Tinuvel was something else entirely. The ocean was enraged, which was never a good sign, and swimming through the great swells of waves proved to be a more difficult challenge than she was prepared for. By the time she reached shore her legs were trembling with exhaustion and her body began to shiver as the cold clawed at her still-wet coat. In spite of the misery and difference of the cold, Abigail wouldn’t change what she’d said for the world – her life was with Braylen now, no matter what storms they had to endure.
She pressed closed to him to soak in his body heat and give him hers in return and smiled her gratitude as he tried to take the brunt of the cold wind to keep it from grabbing for her. Abigail was about to suggest they search for somewhere that may offer them both protection from the wind when the cry rang out angrily in the Inlet. She jerked her head upright, all attention focused on the direction of the call rather than the cold, dark ears pushed forward and eyes bright.
There was no hesitation when Braylen asked her to come with him, and the pair took off toward the sound, prepared to lend assistance to whatever trouble the stallion who’d cried out was facing. Nothing could have prepared Abigail for what she saw and, just as Braylen had stopped suddenly, she did too, eyes wide in surprise. What on earth was that thing? Abigail had only seen deer once or twice during her trek from her old home to the islands, but they’d never been as large as the one she was seeing now.
Her heartbeat slammed in her chest as Braylen leapt into action. Her first instinct was to look around them and make sure there were no other mares or foals nearby, for if there’d been a herd she would have made sure they cleared the area for the stallions to fight without having to worry over them. When there were none, she focused again on the fight that was unfolding a fair distance from her. The stallion who’d offered them his home (or so she assumed that’s who this was) kicked first, and then Braylen. Abigail knew if she surged forward she would only be hindering the stallions from being able to attack, potentially getting in the way. She wouldn’t just leave them to face it on their own, however.
In an attempt to distract the creature before he could charge one of the stallions, Abigail cried out a loud, challenging whinny, as though he needed to worry about her attacking him. She lurched forward, ears pinned to her poll and buried in her dark forelock, blue eyes burning in a rage inspired by the need to protect this place they would call home. Succeeding in distracting the creature was only half the fight, however, for if Braylen or Pagan were not able to hit him as he turned his attention toward her, he may come charging her way, in which case she would need to be prepared to fight, or flee.
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