Falls

Guilt found Faolain in an unusual way.

Instead of remorse, the black mare was disoriented and dizzy. She didn’t know where she was, or where she was headed — she only knew that she wanted to go home, and to seek comfort in Rivaini’s unconditional love. She was not even afraid to tell her mate what she had done, because she did not regret it. She found no joy in the task, but it needed to be done, and there was a kind of relief to be found now that her work was done. The responsibility had been the worst part — knowing what had to happen, and why, and being unable to change it.

It was behind her now, though. In the blood-streaked snow near the shores of Luthien, Faolain had shed her burden and cast herself away, to be swept home by the thundering sea.

Instead of the warm winds and migratory birdsong of Atlantis, however, Faolain was met with the bitter cold of winter in earnest.

It took her a few minutes to notice that she was not in the Ridge. Snow crunched beneath her hooves, and a frigid breath of air snatched at what little warmth she had retained during her swim. “Rivaini?” she mumbled, blurry eyes sweeping across the grey-and-white landscape of the Crossing. Slowly, her mind and vision cleared, and she nearly collapsed from a violent shudder that shook her thin frame before she could even make it off the sand. This was not home. Rivaini was not here. Fat flakes of snow were beginning to fall from the darkening sky above, and Faolain knew she would be stuck here for awhile.

Gathering her strength and her feet beneath her, Faolain began to move inland. The Falls were the most sheltered area on the central isle, so she made her way to them with caution, avoiding any eyes that might be present along her trail. She did not suspect many to be watching her, or even many to be present here at all. Any sane being would be at home, with the warmth of a family to get them through the night. Faolain longed for the familiarity of the Ridge, for its warmth, but mostly she longed for Rivaini. She had not wanted to be gone this long. She had not wanted to be gone at all.

She had not wanted to be alone after the humanity she had lost today in defense of her family.

But she was. Or at least, she thought she was, as she entered the shroud of mist from the Falls that extended in a chilly cloud to the edges of the empty clearing. She did not notice the other, standing in the shelter of the trees, until she stopped moving and heard the soft breathing.

Immediately, Faolain was alert again, her aching and exhausted body tensing up despite its many protests. But the spotted mare in the trees was a stranger, shivering just as Faolain was, probably trying to escape the bitter winds as well. She did not have much of a winter coat, and Faolain felt sympathy for this cold stranger, and she knew that if the other woman had a warm place to sleep tonight, she would be there, and not here.

With a quiet whistle of greeting, Faolain stepped stiffly toward the meager shelter the other mare had occupied. Even with the few trees between them, Faolain could feel the faint heat from the other mare’s body. “Mind if I share your shelter for the night?” she asked quietly. “I can lend you my heat, in exchange.” she offered a small, hesitant smile, though it was interrupted painfully by the gash across her lips. Faolain had not realized such an injury existed until the pain of the cut stretching with her lips caused her to wince.