Falls

It is not my stream, nor my waterfall. The sparkling curtain of water was calling Relke’s name in a tempting sigh, and when the pretty champagne mare gave her permission, Relke stepped into the icy pool. The air around them was warm, but the stream was brisk and cold as it rolled from the snowcapped ridges above. The ocean had been warmer despite the earliness of spring, but the smokey pale mare enjoyed the chill. She was built for the winter, and her strong frame pushed the water out in waves in front of her as she strode toward the union of falls and stream. Her thick coat loosened in the clean water, salt dissolving out of her fur and being washed away by the current. Her pink velvet nose found the vertical surface of the falls and from there she drank, for there it was the coldest. She knew it could be upsetting to the stomachs of horses to drink so much cold water, but she drank slowly, thinking the risk was worth it for the delicious, frigid taste.

When she had slaked her thirst, Relke pulled her painted face from the falls. Droplets glistened on her whiskers and fell from her chin. Her blue eyes found the champagne mare again, who stood in a graceful swirl of amber locks that the current swept gently around her legs. ”Thank you,” she said. ”I must admit, I was terribly thirsty from the swim. I got caught in a storm, and was afloat for quite some time. I hope you fared better than I on your travels here,” she said good-naturedly. It was not in Relke’s nature to harbor bitterness or self-pity toward poor fortune or bad luck.

She listened as the other spoke of a sisterhood, and of her own mother. Relke began to groom herself, pulling the remaining salt out of her fur with her blunt teeth, though her ears remained focused on the champagne mare. ”No need to apologize,” she said, giving herself a last few vigorous scrubs of teeth against flesh before returning her full attention to her companion. ”I’m afraid I have not heard of any sisterhood,” she admitted. ”I spent much of my childhood alone, and almost all of my adulthood similarly.” She laughed gently, the sound deep yet musical. ”Truthfully, I don’t think I understand what a sisterhood is.” Though Relke had never had much in the way of family or friends, she did still enjoy companionship on the rare occasions she came across it. She didn’t know how well she’d fare in any sort of community; the ivory mare was reserved and quiet, and did not actively seek to socialize or form connections; but she enjoyed the thought of others partaking and helping one another live happier lives.

”Is Glenna on this island as well?” she asked conversationally. At this time, she had no concept of the equine inhabitants of the island, or even that there were other islands in addition to this one. Relke would have shuddered to find out all of this at once, for her solitary nature made it difficult for her to relax with so many others in a small area. It was helpful that she had run into the champagne mare, and that their conversation was pleasant and not stressful; Relke found herself enjoying the company, and could perhaps be eased more smoothly into life on The Lost Islands with positive experiences such as this one. She was relaxed in the comfortably chilly water, content to engage in small talk with a single other being, at least for now. She was sure her wanderlust would pull her to explore the rest of the island eventually.

”My name is Relke, by the way.” It was odd, both that she remembered to introduce herself and the act of saying her name out loud, which she seldom did, even when meeting others. It was her understanding that she would never meet a horse a second time, so she never bothered to give her name even on the off chance she ran into a horse the first time. This interaction was not much different, but she was far less anxious than she usually was around others, and thought the offer of a name to perhaps be a sign of friendship. Maybe her time in the hungry jaws of the ocean had sapped her of her stubbornly detached temperament and left her more receptive to connection, however temporary, with a stranger.