Meadow

For once Zimri did not go directly to the falls on her visit to Crossing. The sanctuary had become so thick with thoughts and memories she could almost see them form in the swirls of the mists. She had spoken with Evanescence and laid with Rille, she had become to know there were something different on these islands, just as there were somethings that were exactly the same.

The story Evanescence had spun was a mirror image to her own. A fearful mare, taken comfort under the shelter of the falls and a watchful knight to stand protectively over her. Even the other mare’s face was a reflection of her own.

She stepped over the slowly dying grass, also recalling the sight of the Thicket up in leafy flames. The light that played against the reds and yellows had ignited a little bit of her soul in a way she could not explain. She had felt the strangest sense of peace there and a yearning that she wanted to return and continue to grow in the dense clusters of white paper birch. Now, she felt a strange dissonance that she had left. Once more she felt her hooves itching. The need to run growing strong in her again. But not to flee. Not this time.

A soft voice hit her ears. Instead of starting as she normally would have, she turned to a grullo stallion as he approached. Experience still warned her to be cautious, but she took a chance, inviting herself to grow as she had encouraged so many others before. His proud arch and lean body did not go unnoticed by her dark eyes. As he reached for her she could not help but be captivated by the gleam in his eyes. Rille had been calm and soothing, Ruger had been tortured within himself, this man was exciting and strange. Giving into her own cautious curiosity, she reached out to meet his gentle touch.

The mare blinked in surprise and confusion at his words. She had never had someone say such a thing to her. Bewilderment was apparent. She looked at him as if he had spoken a different language. I don’t understand… what do you know of me? Her uncertainty dissipated a little with his name. Solomon, I am Zimri. I have never been to the Cove. Her gentle lyrical voice had lost is questioning note, replaced with curiosity, her eyes and ears trained toward this proud, exciting stallion, hoping the could lead her somewhere she wanted to go.