you shouldn’t walk where the hemlock grows

The back-to-back fights with the Wolf of Paradise had done a number on Faolain’s nerves. She had come to terms with Rivaini’s decision to carry out the agreement of the first battle, but she still suffered the physical reminders of both engagements. She limped about the Ridge after her return, trying to rest but feeling far too sore. At least the bruises and scrapes were easier to deal with; Faolain was just glad it was over.

It was nice to be home again. She stuck close to Rivaini as she recovered for the first few days, then slowly began to venture out into the Ridge’s dense forests again. The birds had returned, and covered the island in cacophonous song, but it was soothing once you got used to it. Faolain whistled in resonance with them as she meandered slowly through the shade. Her movements were still cat-like, but far less energetic and certainly not coiled to pounce any time soon. She felt like a battered mountain lion as she stepped carefully over the tangled paths of the Ridge. Moving this slowly was uncharacteristic of the black ‘Teke, and she did not like it; still, she knew that if she rushed herself, she could draw out her healing even further. So she was resigned to walking slowly, lazily, through the jungle and listening to the symphony of the birds.

A laugh cut through the birdsong, high-pitched and energetic, and Faolain paused on her trail. Dark ears swiveled toward the source of the sound, and she moved to follow it, hearing the crashing of someone very small as they darted through the trees in addition to the giggles. Faolain whistled toward the sound curiously. She assumed it was one of Siobhan’s daughters, and was just glad to hear a child’s laughter after the girls had lost their mother once again.

”Aislinn?” she called, but as the wide leaves parted before her she saw that it was not Aislinn playing in the thick undergrowth of the Ridge. After a second,Faolain recognized the roan filly from her encounter with Osceola and Requiem. ”Matoaka,” she corrected herself, eyes following the large beetle the filly had just been chasing. ”A friend?” she asked, smiling gently and inclining her dark head toward the shiny insect. ”Does it have a name?”

mare | black | 14hh | akhal-teke