Meadow

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Sabran laughs, joining Zevulun in his amusement. Coincidences have such strange ways of cropping up in life, of bringing people together. It is a pleasant enough way to meet someone, at least, she supposes. Sabran has always been a somewhat nervous and guarded girl, and travelling to the Crossing often sets her on edge, worrying who might approach her. So to meet someone she can reasonably deem ‘safe’ and who seems warm and friendly is a good a result as any for a trip to the Meadow.

“Yes,” she agrees. “Me too.”

She does not expect, however, that even her father’s name will lead them to common ground. When Zevulun names him, she cannot help another chuckle escaping her lips at the irony. It is still a funny thought to her, sometimes, to imagine either of parents as horses that are known across the islands.

“That’s him,” she replies with a nod of her head. “I grew up between the Prairie and the Forest while he was in charge.”

She smiles a little as she listens to his thoughts on Luthien. She enjoys hearing others appreciate the virtues of her homeland.

“I’m glad,” she says. “No, I didn’t know that. I’ve never been to Tinuvel.”

She thinks of the island of ice and snow, only ever having heard descriptions of it from others. She cannot imagine living in the constant cold, to be surrounding by frost that doesn’t melt within a few weeks as it does on Luthien. Yet, it must be beautiful – everything always looks so much prettier covered in white. She imagines the views must be breath-taking.

“I can’t imagine living somewhere so cold. I’d like to see it one day though. What’s it like?”