For Rowena the Falls aren't home, but its appeal isn't too far off. The Falls instead embody hope, a beginning, a chance to find a place that her heart might feel is home. All the love for Macabre doesn't make the Peak home, but the Falls is the place she met Ailill. A part of her that knows better, knows she won't find him here again. Traces of him seem long gone from the islands, but there is a small fantasy alive inside her, one that urges her to venture here periodically in search of his light.
Winter is finally losing its grip. Stray drifts of snow are all that remain in shaded areas. The sun is warm and the trees have suddenly come alive with the delicate colors of buds and early spring bloom. With a touch of color, spring also brings a touch of mud. The black mare stands several yards from the falls, her rump towards the beaches. Entranced by the moving water, she pays no mind to her hooves sinking deeper into the mud. Rowena is covered in it. From the bottom of her barrel to the ends of her toes, she is caked with moist earth. Her feathers cling to her legs in wet clumps and her mane hangs in dreadlocks. The dust of dried mud on her back and loose remains of her winter coat float away in the cool, ocean breeze.
Rowena is a mess, an image very different from the starry-eyed filly that stumbled upon Ailill. She once rambled on about the good magic of the earth, and the power of love. Rowena still believes in magic, but it's magic of a darker kind. And as for the power of love, Rowena lost faith in that a long time ago. Love is weak. Love cannot save lives or stop wars. It is fleeting, and temporary, and its bonds are stretched and broken by any wayward circumstance. All love is is pain.
Love is the ball and chain that won't free her thoughts from Vodnik, Ailill, or Circe. It's a reflex for her to look around when he sees a flash of gold in her peripheral vision. First thoughts jump to Ailill, but when her eyes focus on the newcomer, her stomach sinks in disappointment. Rowena heaves a deep sigh and casts a dry nicker of greeting towards the stranger.