Falls

She knew it was unwise to leave the Ridge so soon after its claim, but Faolain felt it was worth the risk. Rivaini and Iscariot had returned, and she suspected herself lucky that Ailill had chosen to stay for now. He seemed reasonable, though she had not known him for long, and they had only spoken briefly. She hoped to get to know him better, and Siobhan as well, if they planned to stay more permanently. Faolain had no issue with them remaining in the Ridge, though she did have concerns about Björn returning and challenging for it. She only hoped she could hold her own against the fierce icelandic stallion.

In the weeks she had been in the Ridge, the previous ruler had disappeared again, and she was beginning to think he would simply not come back. Now, with the siblings home and summer in full swing, she felt ready to make a short trip out to the Crossing. She wanted to visit the central island at least once before fall. Faolain was under no illusions about her size and strength; the black mare was wiry strong, but she was no match for a stallion’s hunger during the breeding season. She would have to remain home during autumn unless she wanted a spindly little foal running around, which she wasn’t so sure about just yet.

The swim this time was uneventful and warm. The sun was high in the sky when she reached the Crossing, and the heat beat down on her back without the dense canopy of the jungle to shade her. She spent a few moments scraping the sand out of her fur before heading inland at a brisk trot. She was aiming for the Falls; the black mare was hard-pressed to enter the Common unless she needed to, and she was thirsty from the swim. As she strode across the lush grass to the pool beneath the curtain of water, her dark gaze swept over the form of a towering pale-maned stallion on the outskirts of the clearing. She stopped, watching him for several long seconds before continuing to the pool. He didn’t appear to be hiding, just watching, and though Faolain could certainly not take him in a fight, she could probably outrun him. She lowered her dark muzzle to the water and drank before lifting her head to the stallion again and scenting the air. Was he watching her?

He smelled like this place, and she wondered if he lived here. When Faolain had first arrived on the Islands she had lived on the Crossing first as well. Homeless stallions, in her experience, were not nearly as dangerous as territory stallions. The sense of entitlement that came with ownership of land was astonishing sometimes. Cautiously, Faolain stepped toward the silver bay stallion in the shade, her ears and eyes trained on him with curiosity.

"Are you avoiding the sun?" she asked, stepping into the shadows before him, her already small frame feeling particularly tiny. Still, she approached him without fear. If he had meant her harm, she thought, he would have done something by now.