Diamant’s amber eyes are wide and watchful as he emerges from the sea, jet-black coat sodden and shining silver in the morning light. He has not made such a long swim since he and his family had returned to the islands at least a year ago, and his legs are trembling from the exertion. Yet the cool tundra air is invigorating in his lungs, and the wide open space is a welcome change for someone as tall as him.

It’s strange - he reflects as he walks further inland, across the soft, springy tundra moss - for though he cannot remember this place, he knows he has been here before. It’s not just that his family had told him of the period he had spent on Tinuvel as a captive under the queen Mariael, but something deeper, almost genetic, as though his very bones remember and welcome its familiarity. It feels right, not like the festid murk of the Lagoon, which would be beautiful if it weren’t for the dozens of foul-tempered stallions infesting the place.

The inlet looks so untouched, so pristine that Diamant could almost forget about the war raging a few islands away. He has no interest in this war of Cullen’s, and he feels no obligation toward Warsaw, a stallion he has never met. But he had leapt at the opportunity to leave the Lagoon behind for a while, and now that he is here, he is glad that he left, in spite of Gent’s reservations at sending him alone.

Diamant can see a small herd of mares and foals a distance away, and he approaches them at a slow walk, keeping his body language relaxed to show them he means no harm. He can only imagine how he must appear to them: a strange stallion, large and imposing, arriving out of nowhere while they are at their most vulnerable, with foals to protect and their stallion gone off to war.

It’s for this reason he gives them a wide berth, approaching only as close as needed for them to notice him. He does not call out, nor does he stand and watch them, which could be interpreted as threatening. Instead, Diamant lowers his head and grazes the strange tundra greenery, doing his best to ignore the nerves churning in his gut and waiting for someone to investigate him.