“Those are good goals,” Rhadra encourages him, then dips her dark head in a nod as he begins his farewell. The cold has begun to set in under her thick coat and she is ready to make her way home as well. She lifts her muzzle to meet his in the traditional exchange of breaths and smiles. “Thank you,” she accepts his compliments graciously. “I’ll watch for you, Iscariot. Until then, take care of yourself.” The black Vanner holds her place beside the frozen pond, one ear cocked toward the water roaring defiantly in the cold, and watches the pale stallion depart.
She is tired, but her heart is content. Rhadra turns and retraces her steps only once her new friend is out of sight, and then begins her solitary journey back to the Peak. Will it always be this way? she wonders as she walks. Meeting new friends one by one but, ultimately, journeying alone between there and home? She knows Kestral is at the Peak, and a herd of mares she has yet to introduce herself to, and for that she is grateful. But...
Her feet have heard her heart. They carry Rhadra not directly to the base of the mountain, but on a detour to a wooded area that is both familiar and strange. With the canopy fallen for winter, it looks cold and unwelcoming, not at all the verdant haven to which she was first introduced. She blinks out of her musings and pauses to eye the grove. It looks barren, seen through the interlacing branches, naked and wet from the snow, and Rhadra turns away, resolutely setting out for home. Best to remember the joy she found at the end of autumn and forget how much her body echoes that emptiness— for a little while longer, at least.
rhadra