With curiosity in her gaze, she watched him. The life of a wanderer sounded wonderful; Abigail only wished her life could have been the same. Abigail’s life from the moment she was born and as she grew was contained into a strict set of rules she was meant to follow. It was only through kidnappings and, ultimately, the spark of a war to begin, that she had been set free. Her heart had always thirsted for such adventure and though the first few days had been difficult, as the years trickled by she thought less and less of what she had left behind. She missed some aspects of her life and felt sorrowful for what had become, but she wouldn’t go back or give up what she had found for any of it.
“My life was dictated by rules from the day I was born,” she admitted after having a brief moment of recollection, “I wanted nothing more than the freedom I eventually found.” If she had never have run away that day she wouldn’t have the two brilliant, bold, beautiful sons that she had now. Abigail could not envision a life without them.
“The Inlet suits you,” she responded; Abigail could not envision Pagan living comfortably on Atlantis; here, the tundra was dry and cool, there, it was warm and humid. Sticky, even. It was what Abigail knew and so, at times, she missed it. She missed the lightning and rain, the golden sandy shores and the rock pools with little hermit crabs and brightly colored starfish. Being a mother and a loyal mare to Braylen, however, Abigail would only miss it wistfully and not so badly that she wanted to abandon all she had to have it again. The mere thought made her heart clench tight; never could she leave her children or Braylen behind.
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