She heard Solomon’s call from atop the cliffs, and her dark head snaked down to watch him on the sand. Slender ears and dark eyes followed his path, but for a moment Faolain didn’t move. Recently she had become more relaxed about the borders of the Ridge; she preferred to observe rather than interfere when it came to strangers on her shore. So far, no one had come with malicious intent, and though Solomon’s arrival caused her to raise a delicate brow in mild surprise, she did not suspect he was here for much other than mild mischief at the worst.

When she spotted Çiçek approaching the painted stallion, one of her ears flicked back, though not in surprise this time. She knew Solomon had been sweet on the golden mare, and it actually made his visit less confusing. She had no idea he had also been interested in Faolain; she had assumed his compliments were more or less empty, flattery to try and lure a bonus mare to his territory. She couldn’t blame him for it, but the lithe black ‘Teke was not really interested in men; at the very least, she was picky, and Solomon’s chilly departure at their last meeting had somewhat soured her first impression of him. She knew it was an unfair judgment, and as she raised her head from its cat-like position over the cliff, she pushed the prejudice out of her mind. Solomon was a successful leader, and she could not argue that he had been polite in the face of rejection, something that could be said for few stallions. She should not turn down the opportunity to learn from him, no matter her personal opinions, and so she slipped down the Ridge like a droplet of ink toward the beach.

The jungle deposited her in the sand at the tail end of Çiçek’s greeting, and Faolain caught enough of it to know that she had not been expecting the tobiano stallion to pay them a visit. She slipped behind Çiçek like a shadow, announcing her presence with a soft nicker and a gentle bump on the flank so as not to startle the spotted mare. She, too, offered Solomon her small muzzle in greeting, before addressing him with her head held high and her expression characteristically blank.

”Solomon,” she said, giving a brief bow of her chiseled head. ”Welcome. What brings you into the heat of Atlantis?” A sly smile tugged one side of her mouth at the words. It was autumn, after all; she was sure Solomon had been busy in the heat of the Cove, as well.