With both ears pressed forward, Tarrant’s eyes never left the young colt. He felt inside himself a stirring, briefly (madly) wondering if this was a sort of trick his old mind was playing on him. He’d been so much like this child; energy bubbling beneath the surface of his gold and white coat, youthful brilliance in his eyes… it almost stirred the old stallion to smile. Almost. Atlantis would flourish with such a boy, just as it had once flourished with him. This was the environment meant for someone with zest, with life in their veins, just as it was a place for Tarrant to melt away into, so he could pretend just a while longer to remember what joy it had once brought him.

“Paradise is your home.”

Tarrant corrected kindly. Atlantis deserved this boy, just as this boy deserved Atlantis. Ailill, he named himself, and it was a name Tarrant did not recognize. How could he when he’d been a recluse for three years? It had been only the jungle to take Tarrant when this boy had been wobbly-legged and new to the world, nothing more.

“Who are your parents?”

He asked at last, his curiosity too great. Maybe he simply wanted the boy to be a relation to him, to know that even if he faded away, the lineage moved on in brilliant ways. To know that even when he was gone (which he often hoped might be soon), Atlantis would have laughter, joy, and life on its shores and deep inside its jungles. If he could give one thing back to an island that had given so much to him, he would be at peace.

A new stranger approached. Tarrant flicked his ears and let his green-eyed gaze move from Ailill, to her. Ah, this was the mare he’d smelled, faintly, here and there as he kept quiet to himself. You’re real. She said, and he supposed he was. Years ago he would have goaded the two into a game, any game he could think of off the top of his head. Now he only watched her, quiet, and replied…

“I am.”

He watched her, hoping she wasn’t a face he’d mistakenly forgotten after all this time (his memory was rusty, as was everything, given his years of self-imposed solitude).

“Have we met before?”