Falls

Back in the sanctity of the Thicket, Beau had thought he'd found the beginnings of a new life; in fact, he still believes this, deep in his heart. There is a quiet peace to the territory's shade and birdsong and brambles, as well as in the presence of the small, humble herd that calls it home. It is as good a place as any to escape his former life and start anew.

There is still a restlessness in his bones, however - particularly at night, or when he's alone and left to his thoughts. Memories of the loved ones he had left behind plague him, and while prayer and quiet contemplation bring him peace sometimes, other times they are not enough. He misses his family terribly, and the deep instinct that urges him to move and be active and address the woes in his life is difficult to shake, even if he cannot directly fix them. In short, his mind knows he is helpless to fate; his body, however, does not.

And so, after learning from the others in the Thicket about the place onto which he'd washed up - Luthien, one of a chain of strikingly unique isles - Beauregard had resolved to take himself on a small adventure to the island called the Crossing in the hopes it would soothe the anxiety deep in his bones.

He strikes out mid-autumn, when the ocean is chilly but not yet bitingly cold, and emerges onto the shores of the Crossing weary from the swim, yet strangely invigorated. The exertion in getting here has already worked to loosen some of the tension in his body, and the many sights and scents of a new place painted in the colors of autumn is a pleasant distraction.

The light of the afternoon sun on his still-wet coat makes his body gleam mother-of-pearl as he strolls inland, his pale blue eyes sweeping across the rolling meadow before him. In the distance a white-capped mountain juts against the partly-cloudy sky, and as he's admiring it, a lone raven erupts from a tree with a deep, throaty caw. Beau smiles faintly, then moves on.

Once he's reached the trees, he finds a small brook and slakes his thirst before following it upstream along a well-beaten path that's evidently been travelled by many hooves before. Gold and brown and blood-red leaves crunch beneath his hooves while the stream babbles merrily beside him, and Beau's mind is pleasantly empty until his ears catch the deep rumble of a distant waterfall. As he rounds a bend in the woods, the falls are unveiled in their full glory, and Beau stops to watch the thundering silver veil crash into the pool below for some minutes.

Briefly, he thinks about his family, and how they would have appreciated such a beautiful landmark. The thought makes his chest ache with grief, but he does not push the feeling away - rather, he lets himself feel it, letting it pass by like a dark cloud.

Though by now his pale cream coat is mostly dry, it itches with crusted sea salt, and so Beau slips into the cool waters of the pool for a soak. His tresses fan out around him on the rippling surface of the water, and his pale eyes blink against the fine spray the falls spit into the air. Content, he hums quietly to himself.

By the time he emerges, the cold of the water has numbed his bones, and small shivers ripple down his spine even after he's shaken the worst of the wet from his coat. He moves toward an ash tree, hungrily eyeing the vegetation that crowds its roots, but movement from the corner of his eye pulls his gaze away. There lies a mare with a coat the color of vivid bronze, and she is looking right back at him.

"Oh, pardon me," Beau apologizes with a gentle smile. "I didn't realize there was anyone else here. I'm not disturbing you, am I?"