Falls

As the initial shock of his experience faded, the pale stallion became aware of the approaching mare and stepped hastily backwards to cede the pool to her. It was a gesture he performed without thought or hesitation, as that had been the natural order of things back home. Despite being the designated heir, Iscariot had always felt like an outsider amongst his own herd - perhaps due to the disability of his back legs. Unable to compete with the thrusting, jostling crowds, Iscariot had always simply backed off when anyone else asserted themselves for the choicest grazing or the best shelter during a downpour. Without Rivaini's help he wasn't certain if he could have survived at all.

Before Faolain, the only taste of compassion the perlino had ever known was the care and kindness that his sister had always shown him.

And so he stood staring at the large woman after she cracked the ice in two powerful blows, confused and uncertain and desperately shy. The courage that had possessed him to befriend a stranger the previous day seemed to have deserted him, and Iscariot desired nothing more than to turn and flee - well, nothing more save a drink to slake the overbearing burn of his thirst. So after a period of awkward staring and silence, the ivory stallion began to slink forward, keeping one blue eye trained on the dark mare in case it was some kind of ploy. His age-mates had demonstrated the cruelty that his kind could inflict on one another, and only a combination of Iscariot's patient stoicism and Rivaini's remorse-inducing scoldings had put an end to such acts.

The stranger made no adverse movements, and Iscariot relaxed enough to dip his pink-skinned muzzle into the frigid pool. He'd nearly drunk his fill when her voice broke the silence again, a note of curiosity evident beneath her words. Not wanting to seem discourteous, the stallion hastened to reply - lifting his head to let the glacial drops that clung to his whiskers return to their source. "Water never behaved like that back home," Iscariot offered a soft, wistful voice that complemented his hesitant demeanor. "But it was always warm where I used to live. Is it the cold that causes this...ice?"

It felt strange to let the truth sink in - that Iscariot would never return home. That he must familiarize himself with this new land and its seasons in order to survive. With all her shaggy hair - even her hooves were partially covered by a feathering of hair that dusted the ground - his companion seemed well-adapted to the bitter cold that had prevailed since his arrival. His own coat was still short and sleek, and offered little protection from the wind's bite. Fortunately the air seemed fairly still today, and the sun warm in the rare moments it managed to peek through the seamless grey clouds. After the ordeal Iscariot had been through recently, the milder weather was a welcome reprieve.

"Oh!" The Andalusian male exclaimed softly, realizing that he had yet to offer a proper introduction to the compassionate stranger. "I'm Iscariot - and thank you for the drink. Could you show me the hoof trick one more time?" It was only now that they were separated that Iscariot understood how complacent he'd become with his sister always there to look after him. Now that there was no one save himself to rely on, he could see that self-sufficiency was one of the most important aspects of survival. If the stranger hadn't been here, after all, what would he have been able to do besides move on thirsty?