Rhadra smiles and shakes herself to ward off the beginnings of a chill. He sounds so young, and she sees so much of herself in him— was she as proverbially wide-eyed when she first arrived here newly independent from all that was familiar? “I did stay. Truth be told, I hadn’t thought that far ahead, either. My sister would have called me impulsive. She always said the white marks on me indicated a tendency to run nose-first into things without proper consideration, but,” Rhadra shrugs, still smiling. She bears her sibling no ill-will, however strained their relationship might have been. “I think life is a little better, a little more fun when you’re not trying to follow a plan.”
She thinks, briefly, of all the traveling she did before stumbling on the Peak and the assumed (on her part) warden of the mountain, Kestral. “Humm,” she murmurs as she considers how best to answer Iscariot. “I did a lot of wandering when I came here. Through the Meadow and Falls, mostly. And I met a lot of wonderful horses along the way. But,” her eyes meet his as she admits, “I felt very alone with most of them. They had their lives, and I mine. It never felt like anything permanent would come of it.” She thinks sadly of the bay stallion in the grove, alone in his little green haven. It must be quite stark in the middle of winter, bare-branched and cut through by bitter winds, and she resolves to pass by on her way home to see if he is still there to share some warmth if he is.
“But then I found the Peak.” Her expression softens as her voice lowers, remembering with fond reverence her first impression of the majestic mountain range. “All of my anxiety, and loneliness, dissolved. That is how I decided,” she nods, as much to herself as the pale stallion. “It felt good to be there. It felt right. Even if it were only me and one other horse, the land itself felt like home, like a community I hadn’t been able to find even as I was introduced to others who lived on these Isles.”
Rhadra eyes focus again on Iscariot as she adds, “That could change again, of course. I lived in my previous herd for almost five years before the pull the leave became too strong. My wandering days may not yet be over, but I am happy where I am now. And if the day comes when I am not, well,” she walks in place for a moment, a merry gleam in her eyes. “Easy enough to move on, right?”
Then she stills, feeling utterly unself-conscious for having shared so much. “What are you looking for in a home, Iscariot? Is it a land you’re drawn to, or desire for community? Family?” She tries to think of what else might draw a horse to home and hazards a guess: “Something spiritual?”
rhadra