Meadow

Dawn was slow to rise above the broken skyline, but Geçersiz had not woken with the sun in some time. She was a tardy mistress, whose radiant brightness often chased the things he sought back into hiding as soon as she reached out to touch the world. As much as the sooty stallion welcomed the return of light and life, he would forever find himself more comfortable in the spaces between night and day; the hours when the light slanted in brilliant rays that splayed across his dappled coat and cast long shadows that scurried away from the mother sun.

He found peace in those quiet moments; places where he could forget his troubles and lose himself in the normal rhythm of gathering and preparing supplies. He'd been doing so for the better part of a season now, ever since he had arrived - sodden and shivering - on the Crossing. Geçersiz had been ill-prepared for winter, built of fine desert lines that left his lean body with no padding for warmth and a coat that glittered with reflective hair shafts that held no heat.

But he was not yet ready to face his demons on Salem, and so he stayed.

The first rays of dawn light rolled quietly across his pensieve face, revealing his ebony form inch by inch as he contemplated the spread of herbs and salves and pastes before him. Geçersiz had returned to the islands with the intention of continuing on his mother's legacy in healing, although he felt ill-prepared to uphold her mantle. Sidika had been calm and sure in every move that she made, whereas the young stallion still felt much like a bumbling fool in comparison. He had done his best to memorize every recipe she had taught him, as well as those he had learned from other travellers over the years, but it still felt like inadequate preparation for what he intended to do with his life.

The lean stallion reached down to rearrange a few wild garlic cloves and then sighed, well aware that he was stalling for time. If the young panther-like stallion had thought his preparation of materials was insufficient, it was nothing compared to the terror of soliciting patients. Not even his mother had had to do so, and so he had no example from which to pull. Not only had Sidika's reputation preceded her, but she had largely limited her skills to those in her own herd and to that of their neighbors. Geçersiz doubted that anyone still here would remember the awkward child of Maslakhat... which was probably better for him anyway.

His last memory of the isles was not one he wanted to remember.

Geçersiz sucked in a slow breath and then lifted his gaze to the small clearing he had chosen as his new homebase and scanned through the nearby trees for any hint of company. He wasn't exactly sure how to start advertising his new service, but he figured that at least speaking to someone (something he had avoided out of habit for the past season) was probably a good place to start. His bright golden gaze landed on an indistinct figure, their exact details hidden by the early morning fog and dim lighting. Geçersiz oriented toward them with a soft nicker of greeting, hoping that his nerves didn't show on his face.