The Crossing Isle seems barren as usual, the biting winter winds harsh enough that he shivers where he stands on the edge of the Meadow, where the open mouth of the river meets the sea. After his short time wandering the Crossing, and then the Falls and finding no trace of Sabriel, Rafe has turned towards home. It’s easiest to leave from the southern point of the Lagoon, but part of Rafe wants to wander Antlantis again - he’s eager to learn just who Velahrn intended to visit, and so familiarizing himself with the herds there wouldn’t be amiss. Perhaps he will skirt along the western edge of the tropical isle, and stop off through The Hills and the Desert to check in with his allies as he returns. Whatever route his journey takes, it needs to happen soon - winter is only getting worse, and like last year he’d much prefer to be safely tucked away in the heat of the Badlands when it finally bears its teeth.
It seems his dallying has paid off, because as he watches a pretty, pale mare not unlike Mae emerge from the North. She seems upset, body tense as she flees quickly - from The Peak, perhaps? Maybe Luthien or even Tinuvel. Wherever it is she comes from, Rafe watches quietly as she moves. There doesn’t seem to be anyone following behind, so whatever it is she flees was lost or imaginary. Rafe isn’t one to pass up an opportunity, though - and there is a chance that the reaction he gets from her is far more positive than the reception from home. Rafe tosses his head once, and then heads towards her, confident stride as he draws close to the mare.
“Hello,” he murmurs,stopping a polite distance away from her. “You look like you’re going somewhere in a hurry.”He offers her a smirk, eyes tracing over her form. “Perhaps I could walk with you?”