It's been a long time since Rowena ventured to the falls, not since the day she met Ailill, but for some reason her sadness brings her here. It could be her own subconscious cruelly reminding her of what could have been, or perhaps since she found happiness here once, a small part of her hopes she might find it again. Whatever the reason, her legs carry her here.
Rowena is a different mare than she was then. She was restless, but hopeful. Her head was in the clouds, and her future full of dreams. Now her head is six feet under and her inner eye can't see past the darkness of today. Negative emotions have worn away at her physically. Once fleshy and round, she's bony and frail for a draft. Her thick mane is tangled, with leaves and twigs and bits of debris clinging to the knots. Her winter coat is damp and matted. Self-destructive tendencies find her lingering too long in the freezing rain, and lack of motivation produces only half-hearted attempts to dig food up from under the snow on the peak.
Loneliness and lack of purpose is the source of Rowena's suffering. She still mourns the loss of both of her parents, and without something, anything, to help her move on, she is stuck. Macabe might have helped, but as a new mother, Macabre has other things to focus on. Rowena needs support, or she needs a distraction. She prays to whatever god or goddess will listen, to help her out of this rut.
The roar of the falls is deafening. The water moves too swiftly to freeze and the naked trees do little to dampen the sound. The black mare approaches the water's edge. When she closes her eyes, all she can see is Ailill's handsome face. This place overwhelms the senses, and brings back memories both beautiful and painful.