Tarek sought her out and asked for her help, but Indira's help wasn't enough. Tarek lost everything. Indira feels, as a mother, that she should have been able to protect him from such a loss, but she wasn't. Indira is no hero. She is only one mare, and faced with the trials of war, the acts of one fall short.
The outcome of this war would likely have been the same with or without her there. What good has her presence done the forest? Are they better off without her? Indira is filled with these feelings of guilt and of doubt. Times like these are when Indira usually takes her leave. It's what she's done all her life. She calls herself a wanderer but what she really does it run. She's not pressing onwards to any new adventure; she is escaping the old. Indira is self-aware enough now to know she runs. So now, she teeters on the edge of running away from these islands or returning home to the forest. She is frozen with indecision, so for now, she does nothing.
Indira's indecisive wanderings find her grazing listlessly near the falls. The rush of water drowns out the voice inside her head. She's not really hungry. Her lips pluck one blade of grass at a time, and her tongue turns in around in her mouth. Amber eyes stare, unfocused, into the earth.
The spring-time sun hides behind a thick cloud cover. A bright morning turns into the threat of afternoon storms, but rain drops have yet to fall. The wind that moves the clouds brings with it a chill reminiscent of the winter they left behind. Indira shivers a little. Her thick, winter coat already shed for summer, but she is grateful for the absence of flies in a wind like this. Her thick. dark tail hangs loose about her hocks, stirred into motion only by the wind.