“I haven’t heard of the Bay,” Rhadra replies. A tundra sounds interesting, and different from the rolling meadows and impressive mountain range crowning this isle. She wonders if the Bay holds a herd. She still has not seen any here during her wandering, though from what little information she’s gleaned from others and now Harley Quinn’s comment about just visiting it stands to reason that the island she’s been roaming since her arrival is not meant to host the bands of horses she has been searching for. It is certainly a different concept than where she grew up.
Rhadra shakes her discomfort away. Surely a native of these lands can be trusted to predict the weather accurately. Her worrying will do her no good. “I’m not from here,” she admits. “I came from a land across the ocean, around midsummer.” And now a full season has nearly passed. Her homesickness has been a strange thing within her: it isn’t her sister or the broodmares or the stallion she’s missed, but the comfort of a herd around her. If not for that lack... The vanner shakes herself out again.
“I’ve been exploring this area the most. Am I correct in thinking that there aren’t any herds here?” she asks, pointing her dark ears at the younger mare with curiosity. “From what I can tell... Horses seem to come here just to... well, socialize away from home, I suppose.” Her ears flip outward in surprise. “I don’t think the land I lived on was populated enough for such a thing. Are there a great many herds on the Islands?” |