Rowena passes through the forest surrounding the falls. Her progress is impeded by the weight of her wet hair. Her tail and feathers drag behind her, picking up leaves and twigs and leaving a trail of disturbed ground and salt water in her wake. Rowena can't say where she's going, or what she's looking for, only that she's hoping for a little bit of excitement. Life in the Ridge has grown dull.
Rowena might be of average height, and black of coat, so it's unlikely anyone she meets will know who she is upon first glance, but her face bears a striking resemblance to another here on these islands. Vodnik has decided to let his daughter stick around, only for intentions to use her in a trade, but he has not made Rowena privy to this intent. Rowena has noticed very little change in his demeanor. Her father has been frustratingly indifferent towards her. He seems to pointedly ignore her when they cross paths in the Ridge. Rowena didn't know what to expect when she sought out the other half of her family, but this was certainly not it.
Rowena never felt she fit in. Circe was not a warm personality, and Vodnik seems much the same. Rowena wonders where her own bleeding heart came from. She thought it might might be from her father. She dreamt of a valiant knight, having a romantic tryst with her mother, before meeting the love of his life and becoming lead of some grand herd, but these were only the hopes of a filly who wanted to be more than she knew she was. Vodnik and Circe met once. There was no romance, and no forethought. Rowena's existence was entirely unintentional, and neither of her parents ever cared to raise her. Her only comfort is knowing that she's not the only one.
Maybe this is what she seeks in her aimless pursuit, a friend she can relate to. Rowena stops and looks past the web of budding branches to the clear sky above. She heaves a lonely sigh, and wishes with all her might that she finds someone, or that someone finds her soon.