Artem's ears twitched as he stared out at a stretch of reddish mud on the mountainside ahead. He had originally come to seek out the half-blind mare, who, though smaller than the mahogany bay, had nevertheless been a formidable opponent. They hadn't spoken a word to each other, and she'd left as soon as the spar was done, but that only made him more curious.

Was she the one who claimed this land? Did this mare lead a herd of her own here? He still found it a bit hard to believe, though her fierceness in battle should have told him it was certainly possible. It simply clashed with the traditions of most places he had known--which was a lot, considering how much he'd wandered after falling from his king's favor and losing all power and respect. But he wanted to find out, curious of the mare and the rules of these islands.

Curiosity, however, was not enough to risk his life for. Artem looked up again, at the sheer cliffs saturated with rainwater, at the muddy river rushing underneath one of them, splashing with sediment-discolored water. It was dangerous to walk through this place, he knew. Horses and other animals lost their lives in floods, in mud flows, and walking through rivers that were deeper and moved faster than they looked.

He took a step forward and stopped, feeling the saturated clay soil beneath his hooves, imagining how easily this entire stretch of mud could shift and become a disaster. And then it did.

Artem tensed, eyes widening, as the ground above began to slide, mud and rock gaining momentum and sweeping away everything in its path. Then he turned in a quick, decisive motion, launching himself back toward the shore. The mud flow roared behind him, but he did not look back--he had not traveled far inland when disaster struck. Maybe, hopefully, he could run far enough fast enough that it would not reach him.