Meadow

These islands were new to her, but Çiçek felt like she knew them. As she’d stepped from the embrace of the waves and made her way ashore, weeks ago, she was alone, fully and completely, for the first time in years… and yet, as she slipped gently into the trees, the soft leaves brushing against her golden skin felt like a hug. The horses around here looked just like any others she’d seen - but she felt herself drawn to them, as if they were kin.

She’d felt that pull, back in the spring, standing along the coast of the mainland. At six, she had done plenty of wandering - first as a foal, with her parents, then alone, filtering in and out of herds until the call of the sea overwhelmed her. Somewhere out there lay the islands her baba had told her about, clustered together like stars, full of the history of her ancestors and the promise of her future. Çiçek had gotten her fill of the mainland, for now. It was time to see what lay upon the horizon.

And so she had returned to the place where her parents met. The sleek mare had spent some time in the forest at first, but the wide open space of the Meadow attracted her like a moth to a flame, and she’d used the last few weeks observing the goings-on of the islands’ inhabitants. This afternoon, she found herself smack in the middle of a field of wildflowers, tall prairie grass brushing against her legs. Her coat, splattered with white and half-dry from a cooling dip in the river, glimmered against the bright green vegetation, and her head dipped every few moments to gather a mouthful of sweet new shoots. Her ears perked forward, amiable, and her bright brown eyes cast about, idly watching a pair of rabbits chase each other through the undergrowth.

She felt relaxed, in this moment - and yet, something in her knew that today would be different. Çiçek had spent time getting her bearings and now, perhaps, a bit of company would be nice. If it didn’t seek her out, she determined, she would chase after it.

She wouldn’t be her father’s daughter if she didn’t.