Falls

Iscariot was no longer certain whether it was Faolain who was lost - or himself.

The sun had finally emerged from behind the gray clouds in time to sink inexorably towards the horizon, tracing scorching lines of fire across the sky even as it surrendered. Having parted from Rhadra’s company, the pale stallion took the sunset as a sign to return to the Crossing’s western shore. Perhaps he would even find the familiar dark, slender figure of his friend waiting for him there, a disapproving frown twisting her lips downward. After all, the ‘Teke mare had told him to stay - but there had been a part of the perlino that didn’t truly believe she would return. There was nothing about him that was worthy of Faolain’s attention or her time; nothing to hold her to him as there as the bonds of blood that forever linked him to Rivaini. And part of Iscariot longed for such a tie to claim of the mare, so he need not fear the inevitable moment that he would need to let her go.

As the empty expanse of sand and stone emerged from twilight’s shadows, Iscariot’s heart twisted painfully in his chest, expelling all the air from his lungs in a soft huff that scarcely reflected the agony he felt. Perhaps he hadn’t believed that the mare would come back, but the stallion had still hoped for it somewhere in the depths of his soft, breakable core. Of course, there were any number of things that could have kept Faolain away - perhaps she had been unable to find Rivaini, or they had encountered some kind of trouble before they were able to turn back. It was even possible that the black mare had become disoriented in the snowstorm that had swept through shortly after she’d left, and was unable to find her way. Perhaps he should have searched for her, sought to help her as she had helped him. But if there was one thing Rhadra had taught Iscariot besides how to shatter ice with his hooves, it was how hopelessly fragile a creature he was.

Helpless, useless, a burden on those he cared for.

But he was trying to change it, he was. Learning how to get a drink for himself from a frozen pond might have seemed like a small victory, but it had provided a much-needed boost to his self-confidence. And like a foal learning how to use its wobbly new legs, the creamy stallion was coming to understand that most things in life could be won with little more than determination and persistence... and wisdom. With the knowledge he had gained in his trek to the falls, Iscariot understood that the size of this island made it unlikely he would find a specific individual by wandering aimlessly. His best chance of being reunited with Faolain and Rivaini - however difficult it might have been for him to accept - was to remain here and wait for them to find him.

As the grey twilight deepened into the black of night, Iscariot paced up and down the beach, with little more than the dim glow of moonlight to guide his hooves. Occasionally the dilute stallion would stumble on an unseen stone or trip down into a divot, blue eyes squeezing shut as stabs of painful protest crackled through his legs. After a time, the pain became too much and he was forced to abandon his restless patrol. Limping over to the sandy spit he’d slept upon the previous night, Iscariot lowered himself to the ground after much grumbling and many turn-abouts, tucking his muzzle into the warm pocket between his chest and right foreleg with a sigh.

Sleep never claimed him, but he did drift into thoughtlessness as he waited, soothed by the mournful sounds of the sea.