Sunlight reflecting off the snow blinds Mercury. She must have hit her head on the rocks during her turbulent swim here — any amount of light through her slitted eyelids is a stabbing pain, and any sounds that find their way into her pinned ears feels like a hammer on the inside of her skull. She stumbles into the shade of the trees, still sodden, violent shivers wracking her small body.

The forest is unfamiliar to the buckskin mare, but she isn’t sure if that’s because she hasn’t set foot in the territory, or because of her head injury. So many things are fuzzy — she is missing months, maybe years of time. Her last memory is of the Ridge, but she knows it’s been years since her childhood there, and she’s an adult now.

(As she thinks back on it, some memories resurface: leaving the Islands, getting caught in the storm, washing up somewhere)

But that storm was just now, she thinks, and lifts her amber eyes up to the overcast sky.

Mercury recoils with a cry as bright afternoon sunlight pierces her eyes directly. The sky is clear, the rays unhindered by storm clouds as they slice through the golden mare’s vision and effectively cripple her with pain. She missteps, and goes down to her knees in the snow.

She does not rise for a long time.