Though her legs still ached from the weight of her child, the day was pleasant and warm and the sun had soothed most of her soreness while she had lain in the sand so that it did not bother her much when she stood. She knew it would hurt up until the moment of her birth, and having gone so long without feeling much of the effects of pregnancy made their sudden appearance that much more obvious, but it wouldn’t be long until she was free of the burden. It was only her second pregnancy, but she had learned much the first time, and held onto those lessons. Faolain knew her time was near.

The black mare returned Grace’s smile in kind as the spotted mare greeted her. She apologized for taking so long, but Faolain shook her head to dismiss the words. “No need,” she said simply, gesturing to the sea that lapped lazily on the soft white sands behind her. “It’s a fairly mild swim most of the year, but you never know. Especially in winter, if you make the wrong call, the risk is higher. Waiting on the Crossing for the weather to smooth out was not unwise.” Beneath the calm waves, Faolain knew, lay treacherous currents and hungry depths. She could not fault Grace for her fears of the ocean — especially after her own tumultuous exit of Luthien, where she had come face to face with the more vengeful of tides as she had fallen from the island’s edge. After reaching the Crossing, Faolain was fortunate to have the familiarity of the path between the central isle and her own home, which helped to sooth her own fears on her way to the Ridge.

Turning her amber eyes to the high canopies and cool shadows of the jungle, Faolain gestured again, this time inland. “Would you like a tour?” she asked, pivoting awkwardly to face the heavy green carpet that covered the island. It was difficult to move around the foal; this one seemed bigger than Vesper had been. She gave a tired, but warm smile. “I can’t climb much, but there’s plenty to see down here, and you’re free to explore on your own as well.”

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