you shouldn’t walk where the hemlock grows

Little Shadow. A gentle smile pulls Faolain’s usually stern lips upward. She likes it, though she doesn’t immediately understand why. ”Your sire’s tongue is beautiful,” she says. She wonders at Çiçek’s family history on this island, and part of her is almost envious of it. Faolain had heard stories of the archipelago, but they were always rumors, never first-hand accounts, and never from anyone she was close to. They had always been whispers, and really only a small handful of them at that; truthfully, Faolain was lucky she had taken them seriously at all. The tales had been fantastical, and the islands themselves are otherworldly now that Faolain has seen them for herself. She no longer wonders why there hadn’t been more accounts of the place, why it hadn’t been more widely known; once you got here, why would you ever want to leave?

For a while they stand in silence. The whispering of the waves at their hooves is soothing and melodic, and despite Faolain’s offer to race Çiçek again, her dark eyelids are heavy. They shift toward her golden companion beneath the shadowy lashes, and for a moment a needle of fear thrusts into Faolain’s chest - something is wrong. Çiçek is always so open - what could be so terrible that she cannot say it aloud? But her fear is almost immediately swept away again by surprise as Çiçek admits her condition to Faolain. Another slow, soft smile spreads across her muzzle, but her eyes are no longer clouded with tiredness. ”I am happy for you,” she says genuinely. Despite the short time they’ve had together, Faolain realizes that it seems perfectly right for the spotted mare to be a mother. Faolain accepts without any hesitation at all that whatever child Çiçek brings into this world will be blessed to have her, and it makes her swell with a sort of vicarious joy that such a soul will exist to soak up the love Çiçek so generously gives.

When the dunalino mentions the babe’s sire, Faolain lets out a soft rumble of laughter. ”He was quite charming,” she admits. She would never confess that the painted stallion had managed to get a rise out of herself as well, as rigid as she was and determined to hide it. She sought only a professional relationship with the Cove’s leader, not to mention her certainty that should Solomon ever discover such a fact, she would never hear the end of it. ”Gods, a child from the two of you will grow up to be quite the heartbreaker,” she says with another chuckle.

The relief she had felt when Çiçek told Faolain of her pregnancy is beginning to ebb slightly as the dark mare watches her companion’s face. ”Is that all that troubles you?” she asks, concern in her low voice. She still feels tension in the golden mare’s body where they are pressed together, and Çiçek’s pretty eyes watch the ‘Teke with what Faolain thinks is apprehension. She realizes, after a few seconds of thought, that of course the news of the child alone could not possibly cause fearless Çiçek such anxiety. There were strings attached to this announcement, and suddenly anger flares hotly in Faolain’s belly. ”Did he force you?” she asks, the words hissing through her teeth as her small ears press tightly against her neck. It is the first thought that comes to mind, and she is immediately ready to swim to Tinuvel and tear into Solomon like a vengeful mother. Accompanied by the anger is guilt that Faolain has failed Çiçek so horribly and not even known about it until now, and the dark mare is momentarily stunned by this hurricane of emotions. As she watches her friend, she hopes desperately that whatever news Çiçek has for her is something else, anything else.

mare | black | 14hh | akhal-teke