It pleases Shararat to know Ailill is still spreading happiness around the islands; their reunion is a memory she recalls with great fondness, for she knows that no matter how much time they spend apart, when they meet again it will always be as if they have only stepped away for an hour or two. He is brother to her heart, a closer sibling to her than even Gabbar. “Yes, he is one of a kind in that regard, I think,” the Arabian muses, smiling.

Her ears tip nearer to Faolain as she shares a bit of her own personal history. “It is strange, isn't it? To be certain that where you begin is where you will remain, and perhaps end, but life is never so linear.” Shararat turns her head to look into the darkness, though what she seeks to see remains a mystery even to her. Her mother, perhaps, brooding in the shadows, a strong scowl of disdain and disappointment that her firstborn daughter held no love of the sands nor desire to rule, nor had any real stomach for conflict? Or the sad eyes of her brother, who had the chance to leave and stay forever away from that hell but found himself inexorably drawn back into line the moment the volatile chestnut set eyes upon him? Perhaps she seeks herself as a girl, a gangly filly still with eyes bright and elated simply to be alive for every day truly felt a gift. She is not unhappy, these days, not really— but her light has dimmed, and now that she is away from Salem's constant sun she can see how little she glows. This is not the life she dreamed of, all those years ago. Perhaps she can surprise herself, and find herself, like Faolain, happily in a land she'd never imagined.

“Did he?” Shararat responds in delight as her focus shifts back to her elegant company, the wide smile she wears evident in her voice. “Ailill taught me to dance, also. And to swim,” her brow furrows as she recalls. “He is the happiest part of my childhood, and did more to raise me, I think, than my own dam. You are lucky to have his company, Faolain. He ruled Paradise, once— if one so light-hearted as he can succeed in that regard, you should have no trouble yourself.” Shararat tucks her chin near her chest as she offers this compliment, though her shyness is no doubt obscured by the night.

“It is late. Do you mind if I rest here for the night? I'd like to be able to see the cliffs, when I reach them, but then I will be on my way.”