Meadow

None so pretty as what I’ve found here.

Solomon was smooth and confident, and though Faolain saw similarities between them, the flirtatious nature was not something she shared. It was like a different language, one that made her face flush beneath the ebony fur; an invisible vulnerability hidden from view by dark skin and darker coat. If one paid attention, one might notice a slight incline in Faolain’s raven brow, but no other expression stirred her face. She had never been paid such a compliment. She did not know what to do about it. She turned her gaze to Çiçek and watched her reaction, observing the graceful curve of the golden mare’s neck, hoping to learn from her response and pick up a bit of this language for future use. It might come in handy if Faolain ever acted upon her desire to invite new faces home to the Ridge.

Her plan, however, was apparently doomed to fail. It backfired, and instead of learning from the golden mare’s gestures, her face flushed even hotter, and she lost her train of thought. Was this what Çiçek was trying to do to Solomon? Now entirely flustered but doing her level best to hide it, she looked back to the grullo stallion to now gauge his reaction, but the very short seconds of seductive silence and fluttering of eyelashes had passed and the conversation was now progressing. Faolain took a deep, relieved breath, twisting her slender neck so as to smooth the fur she imagined must be ruffled from anxiety. She kept her ears turned toward the pair and tried to play it off as though she were preening as a result of Solomon’s comment.

Çiçek spoke of the stories that brought her here and the family who had lived in these islands. Faolain’s head swiveled once more to address her companions. What a funny coincidence that Çiçek had specific ties to Solomon’s and Faolain’s homes. She gave a small but genuine smile; she wanted to know more about Çiçek’s mother and her life here, and she was similarly curious about Solomon. This was the first time Faolain really had an opportunity to learn about the rest of the Islands, and she was happy to take it.

"I’d like to hear the stories that brought you here," she said, addressing the golden mare once again. The heat of her face was gone now, replaced with raw curiosity and a budding affinity for the friendly, warm mare. "And if you’d like to see the island of your mother’s past, you are welcome in the Ridge." She turned to Solomon now, a cheeky smile pulling the dark corners of her lips. "I’d extend the invitation, but I’m sure you’re busy with leaderly duties." There was a jesting tone to her voice, but in reality Faolain was as curious about Solomon as she was about Çiçek; he carried himself with the demeanor of a confident leader, something Faolain had not yet learned how to do. Her tone more genuine this time, she added, "though if you ever find the time, please do stop by; or, perhaps I’ll see you sometime in the Cove." She could learn from him, if he was willing to give her advice - or even if he wasn’t.

When the tobiano stallion asked about Björn, Faolain realized it was likely he was unaware of the icelandic king’s absence. Did he think she was a trinket of the Ridge, instead of a guardian? Should she correct him, or let him continue to believe that she was not in a position of leadership? People often spilled information to those they found nonthreatening, or beneath them. Faolain did not know Solomon very well; she did not know if his respect for her was tied to the condition that she was a pretty belonging. Maybe he was similar to what she had heard of Rougaru. The thought soured her mind, and her gaze swept thoughtfully over his handsome frame. She had a choice to make: to lie, or not to lie.

In the end, Faolain’s own loathing for dishonesty won, despite the advantage it might have given her. She did not want to be the type of leader that lied, though when she answered his question about her home, she chose her words carefully.

"Not very. I arrived about a season ago, and saw Björn only once. I’ve heard he had been absent for a while before that, however." She watched him carefully, though her gaze also flickered over to Çiçek. This was a new situation for Faolain; something she would have to get used to. "The old herd misses their leader, understandably. It’s taking them some time to trust me. I’m just glad the ones who stayed are giving me a chance." She paused now to let Solomon respond, to see if he had any opinions about Björn’s disappearance, or Faolain’s succession.

”Çiçek,” she continued after a moment, her tone still casual, friendly. ”If it is what you are looking for, you are welcome to call the Ridge your home. Its borders are open whether you would like to stay or just visit.” She smiled, wider than she had before, and her eyes glittered subtly with pride in her home. ”We have about as many bright little birds as we do flowers.”