Siobhan, a voice calls, drawing her reluctantly back to the present and away from the memories that were equal parts pain and bliss. What she wouldn't give to relive those first weeks in the Ridge over again, when Sigurdr had still been a child and not the grown man he was transforming into. Even with the heartbreak of her pre-Island losses still bitter on her tongue, those moments had been some of the happiest that she could recall.

Her warm amber gaze refocuses on the pale buckskin as she draws closer, and a wan smile slides across her pale lips. She had only heard the end of the call that had come for the Bera Konung, but she had a fair guess of who it was. With Solomon as their next-door neighbor and as the reigning king of Tinuvel, it was only a matter of time before the two stallions would be forced to adjust to the new circumstances. Siobhan didn't know him well, but he had protected her family and Ysabel's when it was necessary and was held in high regard by the Ridge matriarchs. But stallions would be stallions, regardless of her personal feelings. Selfishly, she hoped that things would go smoothly, if only because she was so tired of watching everyone around her fight.

I just wanted to see if you were okay, the pretty buckskin asks and Siobhan smiles reflexively, ready to brush away the question. She was okay, if you didn't look at the soft bruised parts underneath. If you didn't know that she used to greet strangers with smiles and easy warmth, wielding diplomatic power like a second skin; as long as you didn't know, then you would not notice the absence of eye contact or notice the way the once Queen yielded automatically to Tigerlily. If you had never counted her smiles when her children were at her side, you would not note their lesser number now.

On the outside, she was fine.

"I'm fine," she breathed, her gaze flicking up to the blue-eyed mare, only to dart away again as Tigerlily declared her understanding. Siobhan swallowed, hard, and turned her face away, stubbornly struggling to keep the memory of those long months from rising to bury her. This time will be different, she consoled herself. This time she knew the land, and the weather that was to come. This time, Bjorn and Tigerlily were here. This time she was not alone with Nyimara. This time she was not permanently separated from her daughters.

This time it was her choice.

Siobhan did not know Tigerlily well. Their paths had oft been separated, first by the war, then by Bjorn's absence, and the latest by her crusade with the dun stallion to the lands of his forefathers. Unlike Ysabel and Nyimara, Siobhan had never had the chance to know her in any significant way, but she knew enough about her to know that her heart was kind. The more she spoke, the more this impression solidified and Siobhan wished that she could have known her during their brief time in the Ridge together. Now, Siobhan only felt guilt for taking even small parcels of Bjorn's attention away from her. They deserved a happy ending, and yet she had clumsily inserted herself into the middle of the fray by acquiescing to Cullen's demands.

In retrospect, when the deed was done, she should have fled somewhere else. To Solomon, perhaps. She had no great love for the man, but it would have allowed Bjorn and Tigerlily to establish themselves without the gloom of Siobhan's depression dampening everything, and would have allowed her to catch up with Ysabel.

But the ghost of Ailill still stood between them, and she was not certain that she had the stomach to tell her golden friend that he was gone in search of their children. Thoughts of Ailill inevitably led to the daunting prospect of telling her beloved what had happened in his absence and she shied away from that thought so hard she flinched reflexively. Lingering revulsion from Cullen's threats send a shiver racing down her spine and she shakes, desperate to get rid of the creepy-crawly sense of his eyes on her.

I want this to be Home to you, she was saying, but Siobhan only offers a quiet smile in response. She wasn't sure that she had a home anymore. It certainly wasn't this barren landscape that had no good memories to soften the bad, and it certainly wasn't the Arch. She had once fervently believed that the Ridge would be her home forever, but the past few years had filled the jungle with bad memories that took her by surprise at every turn. Even the places that she cherished - where her first daughter had been born, the waterfall that Sigurdr had shown her that first day, the beach from which she'd watched all the new arrivals come so many years ago - were now tainted with grief.

But to admit this to this prettier, fiercer, sweeter version of herself? This mare with stunning blue eyes that did not look to her with the expectation of reciprocation, just honest goodwill? She could not.

"Thank you," she says instead, her lips closing over all of the other words that went unspoken.

The red mare watched as realization dawned over Tigerlily's face and she smiled gently, shaking her head to decline the apology. It certainly wasn't necessary. "No forgiveness needed. You're welcome to join me anytime," she murmured, and began walking again, inviting the buckskin mare alongside her. After a few steps, Siobhan spoke again, hoping that by avoiding silence she would save them both from the awkwardness of their situation. "How was the Norðurland?" Her tone was companionable, and she cast her gaze back up to the other mare briefly. "Róisín always wanted to go, but the timing was never right. And now somehow, my baby girl is all grown up." Shaking her head she chuckled, the laugh bittersweet in her mouth. "It's crazy how quickly time passes."