Meadow

"Sleia," the copper mare chirped warmly, "I'm Sleia." It was good to finally find a friendly face, better yet to find a soul trying its best to burn as brightly as hers. She had grown up among a quiet, distrustful people, the sort that spend their wandering days looking down their considerable noses at outsiders with a misplaced but heartfelt sense of superiority.

They were not bad creatures - she wasn't the sort to hold a grudge when, to their credit, they had allowed her to leave without argument - but she knew a prison when she saw one, and wanted no part in it.

Leaning her neck across the moonwashed mare's back, Sleia tilted her head toward the island that lay just south of them. "Is that Atlantis?" It had been the first place to catch her eye once the novelty of the Meadow had begun to wear off, and if Talya would be there then she knew she'd find her way to its shores eventually. "I will certainly come and visit, even if I never run into Nobody for you." Perhaps in warmer days, when hypothermia didn't threaten so much, they would chase sprites of sun glitter through the shallows together.

That would be nice.

Sleia didn't know who this Good Witch was (honestly, at this point, she had begun to accept that people here had clever names for everyone and everything), but if she'd offered safe refuge for Talya then perhaps she wasn't so bad. The chestnut mare grinned and leaned into Talya's touch, enjoying just for a moment this quintessentially equine exchange.

"Hey," she said, ears pricked forward, "do you know what's in those mountains over there?" Her chin flourished vaguely northward, to the jagged spine rising up over the northern horizon. "I thought I might try to climb one."