Meadow

This was the longest time Asche had ever spent roaming the crossing isles. His heart had not yet pulled him back to the frozen shores of Tinuvel, nor did he seek out the warmer climates of his former home in the ridge. For once, the man was aimless, vapidly meandering with no true visions of the future or goals to meet. He simply wished to wander, so for now, that is what he did.

The meadow, like the falls, had not much been changed by the sands of time. It was the same dull green field, littered with the same weeds it had been all those years ago - the only difference is that the hooves that now kicked up dust and left marks in the mud had been much changed. Asche had yet to see a familiar face - this bothered him more than he cared to admit. Surely he wasn't the only one with ties so strong to this cluster of isles that he couldn't help but be drawn back, time after time?

Was that what was truly bothering him, though? Or was it that there were certain faces he longed to see, faces burned into the depths of his mind, faces he'd once wished to forget, but knew now he never would.

The stallion stopped just short of a tree, resting for a moment in its dappled shade and raising his head to stare at the patterns the clouds painted against the sunset. It was growing darker - he'd have to seek a safe place to rest for the night. Or perhaps he wouldn't sleep - again - and just spend the night thinking, haunted by memories as he trekked through the lands he once called home. The ghosts of the past plagued him so. He couldn't help but feel guilty for leaving them behind.