Meadow

Wet season had come to Atlantis, and though Faolain loved a good thunderstorm, the unrelenting rains were getting a little old. She checked on each member of the Ridge herd, including Siobhan (from a distance) and her daughters, making sure they were alright beneath the protective jungle canopy before removing herself to her favorite spot on the cliff. While most of the territory remained fairly dry beneath the forest’s thick leaves, Faolain’s spot was exposed. She thought it would be fine - a little moisture was easy to ignore - but the sheets and sheets of rain would not let her meditate to the depths she wanted. She became frustrated. The territory was so damn empty, and it was starting to bother the usually level-headed black mare. Honestly, a lot of things about her new life were causing her to react in ways she never had before, though most of the unfamiliar emotions were either good or easy to work through. Usually, she could shrug off mild frustration with ease. Not today, apparently. The rain just would. not. stop.

Maybe today was not one of the days to meditate about her problems, but to actually confront them. Since claiming the Ridge, the new leader had found that most issues in politics could not be solved by direct action, leading her to isolate and meditate often to find other solutions. One of these issues was particularly troublesome: her relationship, or lack thereof, with her neighbors. Shamwari’s warning had caused her to become incredibly cautious about leaving the island. Faolain personally was rarely lonely, but she knew herds usually were not this small, and she worried about the other horses living here. Were they lonely? Did they feel less safe with so few members? If it weren’t for the potential dangers next door, Faolain would have returned to the Crossing to offer her home to others, and hopefully bring back some new faces to fill the Ridge with life. Until now, that had seemed like a very bad idea.

Now, however, there was only silence from Paradise. She had heard nothing from Rougaru or Xiomara despite her hesitance to reach out to them, so maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if she made a trip to the central island. At the very least, she knew Rivaini and Ailill were capable of protecting their loved ones. She couldn’t remain here, paranoid and silent, forever.

Ultimately it was the damn rain that drove her to make her decision. The bristling black mare abandoned her clifftop perch and descended to the shore, where she dove into the waves with a quick glance behind her to make sure no one absolutely needed her to stay. The rough water, pock-marked with tiny craters from the fat drops of rain, carried her swiftly but none too gently to the Crossing. She arrived on a beach she had not been before, but she smelled the familiar Meadow where she had first met Rivaini, and made her way in that direction.

The Crossing was hot and dry, but the Meadow was filled with lush grass and wildflowers. Faolain halted at the edge of the trees, observing the Meadow and realizing how different it looked now than when she had seen it in winter. Her eyes swept across the field, pausing on a white-spashed mare grazing among the flowers. There was no one else around that Faolain could see, and the prospect of striking up a conversation with someone new, who didn’t need to know all her problems with politics, sounded quite nice. Faolain strode forward, stepping carefully through the lovely flowers, and let out a friendly nicker to the slightly taller mare. She stopped just close enough to exchange breaths, and to offer a quietly welcoming "Hello."