PERSEPHONE

The swim to Tinuvel was a hard one.

The cold bit at her skin, sharp and icy, and the salt water stung the small nicks on her knees where they had scuffled. But it was not the weather or the pain that made the journey feel so hard – it was the failure.

Persephone was no old woman, but it had been some time since she had sparred with her companions back home. She was out of practice. She had gotten a few good licks in, but Warsaw had taken advantage of her inexperience and element of surprise: Persephone had lived here in peace for too long. She had grown complacent, almost forgetting that she had yet to ally every leader on the islands.

And that was her responsibility – not Freya’s. The decision to offer herself instead of the new mother had not been a pleasant one, but it was an easy one. She took to the punishment willingly, if unhappily.

Persephone shook the seawater from her skin as she arrived on the shore of Tinuvel. She eyed the Bay in the distance. Perhaps she could speak to Mariael before she left the island again. She shivered, knowing she would only have to get used to the cold now, but grateful that it was at least the most temperate time of the year for the island, and it wouldn’t be unbearable once her coat was dry again.

With that she steeled herself and headed towards the borders of the Inlet. She walked confidently –although she was a little lame on her front right leg where she had taken a kick – into the home of her enemy.

all of your demons will wither away

mixed, bay varnish roan, 14.3hh