Faolain perched on the spine of the island as the sun began to set, bleeding fire into the sky and across the waves. It had been a quiet day. Her recent interactions with Ailill had been… informative, to say the least, and Faolain was beginning to get a grip on her new position as a leader. Or, so she thought. She was not yet comfortable with the responsibility, and she assumed she never would be. In her mind, if you were a comfortable ruler, you were ruling incorrectly. She was willing to accept that as long as she had family to protect, there would be quiet discomfort in her heart, but she knew that it was outweighed by the bonds she could form with those she brought into her life and welcomed into her home. Right now, the Ridge was quiet, and Faolain was alone most of the time, leaving her in this feeling of discomfort without the soothing embrace of her friends. At least she was feeling less overwhelmed. The daunting task of learning how to be a good leader would probably always seem endless, but at least she had made the first few steps, and she was adapting to this new life, developing routine and learning the basics. It would be alright, in the end.

But it was so, so quiet.

She missed Iscariot and Rivaini. She hadn’t seen them since Rivaini left to collect Iscariot from the Crossing, or when the perlino stallion arrived and briefly joined her conversation with Shamwari. The black mare felt guilty for neglecting them. They had become so close in such a short amount of time, and now it seemed they hadn’t seen each other in ages. She knew each of them, including herself, needed time and space to collect themselves, but Faolain was impatient for the day she could be in the company of her friends without the stress of massive change.

It would happen someday. In the meantime, there were things Faolain needed to confront. Though she had not done so intentionally, she could no longer avoid the red Ridge mare who had lived here with Björn, and it seemed Siobhan had similar thoughts this evening, though Faolain would never know if the other mare had been avoiding her or waiting to be sought out. As the sleek black mare descended the steep slope of the Ridge, she heard Siobhan’s call close by, and within seconds she had slipped out from the heavy jungle flora to stand before her.

”Siobhan,” she said by way of greeting, dipping her slender head to the other mare. As Sio had been the one to make the call, Faolain said nothing else; instead, she waited to hear what the red mare wanted to say.