Meadow

☁

A soft nicker pulls Sabran’s attention away from the autumnal kaleidoscope above her head, and she turns to see a stallion approaching her. His appearance is quite eye-catching, his coat pale and golden and splashed with white. He is a little bigger than her, and a little older than her too judging by the way his body is filled out and the maturity in his face.

There is a smile on his face as he draws close, and his expression suggests no ill-will, so she accepts his greeting, albeit somewhat nervously. They exchange breaths, and it seems they are both surprised to find the familiar scent of home on each other.

“Yes, actually,” she replies before listening to the stranger introduce himself.

Zevulun. The Prairie. It clicks into place – they are neighbours, of course. Her mother has already told her that it is safe territory there once again, so this relaxes her a little in the company of the stranger. It is a strange coincidence that they should run into each other here, on the Crossing, rather than on the borders of their homes where they must have been in close proximity many times already. She gives him an amused smile of realisation.

“Ah,” she begins. “My mother mentioned that we had a new neighbour. It’s nice to meet you, Zevulun. I’m Sabran, Persephone’s daughter.”

She offers a bob of her head in greeting. No doubt, with her heritage confirmed, the resemblance will be obvious to Zevulun. She has never needed friends’ or relatives’ jokes to confirm to her how alike they look – her own reflection in the surface of the water back home has always been enough for that.

She pushes the thought away with a small chuckle.

“The Prairie used to be my father’s land – it’s a beautiful place. How are you liking it?”

She tilts her head at him just a little, curious.