The steps were so light, Maziel wondered if it were a thin horse that was approaching. With her ears forward and her nostrils flared as she sucked in a sharp breath of familiar Tinuvel air and the new smell of the mare, she tried to gauge all she might of the situation at hand. When the mare began to talk and her questions were quick, Maziel struggled initially to keep up with the conversation. It was clear very, very quickly the light steps were likely due to age for though Maziel was young, this horse sounded as if she were even younger.

Maziel’s mind spun briefly with the information launched at her feet and the questions tangled in them. She blinked her eyelids over her milky eyes and lifted her head, inhaling shortly and drawing the scents from the forest around them. Her ears flicked as she attempted to gauge the calls from the little birds the young mare had spoken of but it appeared in light of their conversation their feathered friends had gone somewhat quiet.

“Oh, that’s very impressive.” Said Maziel once the young mare mentioned she’d learned how to swim. Maziel meant it, too, because she couldn’t (and likely never would) swim alone again. The ocean was a very scary, wide, seemingly endless place and the sensation of not having ground beneath her wasn’t as enjoyable as she once thought it might be. However, Maziel had been unfortunate to have been swept away when the sea was angry and any time she swam among its tides she remembered how little and powerless she’d felt to its push and pull.

“This is the Bay on an island called Tinuvel. Paradise is…” She remembered why Paradise sounded familiar; Ailill, the stallion who had once stolen Mariael’s mother, had lived there. “On Atlantis.” She finished her train of thought. “I’ve never been there.”

But the young mare had asked other questions and Maziel was more than happy to answer them. “These trees all have different names,” she mentioned, “but I could tell you what the different ones are called if you point them out to me.” They’d have different smells and different sensations when she felt them, so Maziel was confident she’d be able to help.

“These little birds are called chickadee’s,” she explained, happy to be of use and knowledge to someone. “What are the birds in Paradise called?” Maziel wondered if they sang differently than the birds of Tinuvel did. Maybe one day she’d be able to hear them.