The silver-haired mare who came for Ramiel was as ferocious as she was beautiful; or she was beautiful in her ferocity. There could be a numerous amount of excuses as to why and how she managed to best Zevulun but the truth was the truth and by the end of their scuffle, Zevulun had no choice but to yield and accept that he had lost. With pinned ears the pale stallion backed away from where they’d turned the ground up during their fight, favoring an injured limb, but not enough to show how extensive the damage actually was. He still had his pride.

Ramiel was standing nearby, watching the fight with worried eyes, and his heart sank as he noted his father being the first to break from the scuffle and back away. He glanced over his hind toward the expanse of the Prairie behind him, wondering where Raziel was sleeping. He wanted to say goodbye to him, to Jasper, to his other young siblings, but they were further back in the territory, safe among the rolling hills of yellowed summer grasses.

His father approached him. “I’m sorry, son.”

Ramiel reached out and laid his pink muzzle against his father’s neck. There was sweat, dirt, and alarmingly - blood. It’s okay. He wanted to say, but the words stuck in his throat. He wished his father would have allowed him to step in and fight instead. Ramiel could take time to nurse an injury but his father could not.

“Be careful,” Zevulun’s voice was low as he glanced back at the waiting silver-haired mare. “Keep your eyes open, and your ears. Learn what you can of Salem. Of her.”

His father talked in a way he hadn’t before. Decisive words. Thoughtful ones. Ones with weight to them.

Zevulun’s breathing was still somewhat labored. He dropped his head and Ramiel could see the lines of exhaustion settling across his face. He reached out, ruffling Ramiel’s inky dark mane, tugged at a stray strand, then let it slip away and moved to walk at a slow limp past him. Ramiel turned to look forward at the mare waiting for him, ready to escort him to her home, and felt a confusing tangle of emotions swell up inside him. One ear flicked back to remain listening to his father and caught the rustle of grasses still. Zevulun had stopped to quietly watch his son go. When Ramiel looked back at him, he gave a small nod toward the distant shore.

Ramiel answered with a nod of his own, dropped his head, and left the Prairie as he was now forced to do.

—————————————————————

It was nearing nightfall when he trudged up the shallows onto Salem’s shoreline. Ramiel had been to Salem once before, years ago, and when he had it was the Dunes he had traveled to. He and Raziel had come here to explore and to see an island they’d heard stories of, but never experienced for themselves. He remembered they’d come across a richly bay colored mare with a pale tail, she’d been kind and had said she had only just arrived herself. Was she still here? Was she a member of the silver-haired mare’s herd?

The air was cooler than it had been the last time he’d been in Salem, though he suspected that was because he had come later in the day. He glanced back at the swirling waters of the shallows, letting the excess water drip off his body as he sighed at the ocean behind him. Was Raziel just starting to wake? Had he started searching the expanse of the Prairie for his twin? Had their father told him what happened?

Ramiel’s heart sank and he tried mentally pushing away at the concern for his twin. Things had been strained between him and Raziel for a while now (or between Raziel and the world, it seemed), but Ramiel knew how much Raziel still depended on his presence. Hopefully he wouldn’t take the news too hard, or blame their father for it.

Beginning to walk up the shoreline, Ramiel expected Nyimara would catch up with him soon, or thought one of her herd members may come to see who their newest arrival was. He pushed back against the trepidation swelling inside and put one hoof in front of the other, walking further into the desert territory that would now be his new home.

Temporarily, he thought.

— ☼ —