For a time Rhadra is fully invested in scuffing snow away from nourishment. She follows the grass she uncovers with single-minded purpose, her dark ears swiveling only occasionally to catch any alarming sounds— of which there are none, save for the occasional cadence of hooves across the packed snow as horses move past the grazing mare. Eventually she feels sated. Like a bubble popping she becomes aware that the distant rush of water she believed to be the ocean is much, much closer than when she had initially set out, and Rhadra lifts her head, confused. She is nowhere near the beach. So where...?
The vanner turns her head to witness the next great wonder these Islands have to offer: a massive fall of water pours over the edge of a high cliff to her left, so torrential there’s space beneath for one to stand. It would be a wet perch to be sure, and slippery on those rocks, but the view before her is incredibly inviting. She wants to tuck herself beneath that great wave and let its roaring fill her ears, watch the water froth where it collides with a wide pool and narrow her eyes against the wet spray. It’s beautiful.
She stands, mesmerized, until the cold creeps up her legs from the bottom of her feet and hooks its chill inside her. She shivers, then pulls her eyes reluctantly away from the majestic view to warm herself by walking. She keeps away from the wide pool and instead follows the winding river, one ear cocked back to carry the sound of the waterfall with her as she distances herself from it once again. It is not really all that similar to the ocean, she thinks as she picks her way down a steep game trail, setting her hooves carefully on the snow-slick ground. The waterfall is an open-mouthed roar, constant, undeniably loud.
Rhadra steps onto level ground and sees another set of falls, this one smaller in stature and frozen silent. She pauses to admire it before her gaze is caught by a pale figure standing beside the pool, lowering his head as if to drink without breaking the barrier of ice first. This puzzles her, but it isn’t until he collides nose-first with the cold surface that she begins to move, automatically, ever ready to help.
“Here,” she says as she draws up beside him. She lifts one leg and strikes the ice, hard, with her broad hoof. It cracks sharply, splintering from beneath. Rhadra repeats the motion and is rewarded with a cold splash of water as the ice breaks, and then she side-steps to allow the stallion room to drink. “Watch your nose. Sometimes those shards are sharp,” she warns him gently. Winter and its woes are not strangers to Rhadra. She knows the season can be deadly to the inexperienced, and wonders what lands he must have come from to not recognize the cold barrier over the water. “Have you never seen ice before?” |