The thought of returning to Tinuvel both frightened and invigorated Freya. She wanted so badly to go back there, to see if, by some lucky chance, her children were still there. If perhaps, even, Dogun was there. Don't be illogical, the little voice in her head piped up whenever these thoughts began to invade her mind. He's not coming back and you know it. You have to let it go. She knew this - she had repeated it to herself, her own personal mantra, for months on end after Dogun's initial departure from the Inlet. Then again, after she was taken away from the only other thing she had left.
Sighing heavily, the grey-muzzled mare trod her way through the Meadow. Her visit to the Commons had been pleasant, but unproductive. She had found a nice friend in Persephone, but other than that, had discovered no new leads on the possible whereabouts of her children. Every now and then she would catch Bjorn's scent, but it was so old, she knew there was no point following it. She hadn't even detected his scent in the Commons, and if his scent was this stale now, what were the chances she would happen upon him nearby? Although disappointment gnawed at her heart, she did her best not to think of it as wasted time. She felt the ache in her bones, and settled herself near a copse of trees, which provided a bit of welcome shade from the blazing heat of the summer sun.
Freya first noticed the pair from afar; the smoky-colored mare and her unusual two-toned filly. Frankly, it was the child that had caught her attention the most: the brindling of her coat was like nothing she had ever seen before, the way the stripes crackled their way across the filly's delicate body. The older mare - her mother, Freya assumed - looked weary, a feeling she was all too familiar with. A gentle wind picked up, carrying the smell of saltwater and alpine air towards her. That smell.... She had spent years of her life on Tinuvel, and would recognize that clean scent anywhere. Besides, she reasoned, there was no other island like Tinuvel nearby.
Blue eyes tracked the pair across the Meadow, waiting until they had slowed before making her approach. Her old body didn't move as quickly as it once did, her creaky knees protesting with each step she took. When she was within a few lengths of them, she extended a greeting, "Hello, I'm Freya. I'm sorry if this is strange, but..." she paused, feeling slightly awkward, "well, you smell familiar. May I ask where you've come from?"