Falls

Inka

It had been a long time since Inka had been on the crossing: years, in fact. She had not avoided it intentionally, even if the last time she'd been here had not exactly been a pleasant experience. Her eldest daughter, Jetta, had been so very young then, and so much time had passed. Both Jetta and Adelheid were gone now, two grown mares who had outgrown the small pond that was the Peak. Inka did not begrudge her daughters' desires to wander, but there was not one day that went by that she did not miss them, and she was now beginning to wonder what had happened to her own sense of adventure, if indeed she had ever had one at all.

This was something she had wondered about more and more ever since Adelheid had accused her of trying to hold her captive in their own home. As upsetting as the accusation had been, the Friesian mare was now beginning to see that - by trying to keep her children close to her, safe and sound within the sanctity of their home - she had quite likely been smothering them. She was a homebody, and it had never occurred to her up until then that her children might not get as much solace and joy from being settled as she did. It was a bitter realization to swallow, even if she knew it did not mean her children loved her any less.

The opportunity to do something about this came one fine summer day. Diamant had kindly offered to look after Argento for a while (with the promise that he would take the growing colt exploring), and so Inka was left to her own devices, free to do whatever she liked without the constraint of having an adolescent attached to her hip. Thus, she decided to make a long-overdue visit to the commons. At the very least - she told herself as she struggled down the slopes of her home toward the flat commons - it would be a refreshing walk and a change of scenery. Perhaps she would run into someone she knew; perhaps she would even run into one of her daughters.

Her aging joints soon began to complain, however, and by the time the Friesian mare reached the falls, she felt tired and stiff-legged. She could hear the rumble of the falls very close by, but it seemed to come from every direction - with the way the sound bounced off every tree in the vicinity - and she did not have the energy to search every nook and cranny for it. Instead, she approached the nearest horse, who was in this case a small, finely-built mare with a coat of gold. Her interest piqued when she saw the mare was close to her own age.

"Pardon me," she greeted the stranger, regarding her with warm brown eyes. "This might be a silly question, but in which direction are the falls?"