Twinge cannot say for certain what exactly it was that brought her to the decision to follow Bacardi into the unknown. Perhaps it was the pale yellow gold of his eyes. They held such secrets, and though she liked to believe that she was good at reading others, she found it hard to read behind his golden gaze. Maybe it was the broad curve of his shoulders or the strong set of his jaw, both features that she found rather pleasing and altogether handsome. Perhaps more likely, it was the description he gave her of his home. Salem was all she had ever known. Though the desert island held its fair share of mountains and occasional snow frosted mornings, none of it compared to the depth of which he explained his home and the frozen tundra of Tinuvel. She had been fully intrigued by his description and had it not been for the interruption of the strange older stallion that day in the common land, perhaps she would have joined him then and there. However, the continued reprimands from her mother over the years, forced her to be as polite as she possibly could to the scraggly stallion and thus the thought lingered in the back of her mind for days on end. Bacardi politely took his leave of her much to her own dismay. It was clear that though his visit to the main island was one of regularity, he had other responsibilities that demanded his attention. No doubt a small gaggle of mares back home beckoned his return. Personally she could not blame them, but that did not mean that somewhere deep down in her core, she felt the first stirring of jealousy surfacing.

For a few days she pondered his offer, forcing the girlish giggle from her lips or the bright gleam in her dark eyes that summoned itself each time his handsome face came to the forefront of her mind. Her head told her that she was being no better than the foolish fillies she used to make fun of, dancing and prancing across the sandy dunes in hopes of gaining one of her brother's attention. For some, perhaps it worked, but not Twinge. She was determined to be as high and aloof as mother was. She bowed to none and bent for even less. Her heart told her, however, Bacardi was different. Where others approached her fiery display with muscles taunt and suave words playing upon their tongues, he had merely seen her as the independent creature she sought to be seen as. He did not try to offend her wit by throwing false promises in her direction, instead spoke straight forward and polite, his words only hinted by the opportunity he offered.

So, after a few days of meandering with no real purpose around the main island, taking in what sights and scenery there was to be seen, Twinge found herself drifting towards the ocean, her dark eyes cast at the distant monolith island shrouded in gray. Tinuvel. Her decision was made.

A mischievous smile tugged the corners of her ash dusted labrums upward, the possibilities of adventures and seeing the tri-colored stallion again igniting the embers in her soul. Muscles tense beneath her sleek skin as she gave her heels a final kick before launching once more into the ocean after the golden eyed stallion.

The wind whipped the waves around her, white foam flecking the caps of each wave, as she thrust against the tumultuous ocean. Her heart beat a quickened pace, the icy cold water of the bay unfamiliar to her. In Salem, spring would already be hot, the sun kept the ocean around the island warm even in winter months. However here, here it was different. Here, the strongest are the only ones who manage to survive. Ears fall backwards. Paper thin nostrils flare as she tosses her head, resettling the dark strands of her forelock plastered against her brow. Her body wanted to shiver, a part of her wanted to turn back for the main island, turn back to warmer climates and the sun’s blazing warmth that kept the fierce icy chill at bay. A small part of her wondered how any could choose to live in such cold environments but then, perhaps Bacardi would not be nearly as rugged and mysterious in her eyes if that was so. It was his eyes that drove her to continue, her own stubborn nature propelling her body through the frigid waters and into the calmer waters that surrounded the bay.

She does not come ashore as any other trespasser might have. She does not linger in the shallow waters or tiptoe over the pebbled beach with uncertainty in her eyes. Instead she charges from the ocean with a kick of her heels, as though she were telling the water’s good riddance even if for a short period of time. Water droplets spring from her painted sides as she gives her lithe form a quiver shake. Paper thin nostrils flare as the crisp air filters through her senses, awakening once more that curiosity that ate deep inside her. She should wait like any meek mare, wait patiently for someone to discover her huddled on their borders and welcome her into their home as a guest but she does not. Instead she prances forward, thrusting her feet before her with a dramatic display of power and poise. Nimbly she leaps over a fallen log, and lands with a soft thud in the firm permafrost. Dark eyes blink against the icy chill of the wind, the cool air exhilarating and even a bit energizing. This world was so vastly different from the wide open hills and valleys that made up the desert. One could not simply peer into the distance and see as she had seen on Salem. Tall trees, taller than any she had ever imagined before hampered her line of sight, their sharp scent unlike any she could ever have imagined. The desert world she knew had its moments of color, but nothing could have prepared her for the difference she saw here. Despite her attempt at remaining aloof, the smallest of smiles tugs at the corners of her lips. It may be cold here, but just perhaps it was worth it.

Small fluted ears perk forward amid the wind tangled locks of obsidian that frame the delicate curve of her cheek. Small muzzle lifts as she lets her call ring over the zephyrs, proclaiming her arrival for any that might have missed it. Twinge had come, and the fiery spirit of the desert with her.