While Zevulun had thought to look beyond Luthien for where Viðarr may have gone, he wasn’t feeling particularly hopeful that he would find any answers. Maybe that's why he skirted away from Cimmaron’s ruins, the situation too similar to the one just a few years ago when he’d stumbled across his fallen friend. There was too much sorrow laying across Zevulun’s shoulders from the last few seasons, he wasn’t eager to face another tragedy like that so soon.
Zevulun chose not to reflect too long and instead pulled his pale figure ashore the eastern shoreline, near the border of the Falls and the Peak. A part of him pulled toward the all-mare territory, his thoughts immediately filled with Reef, but he pointed himself toward the mingling areas instead. The pretty little roan had promised him she and their son would come visit once Thatch was strong enough to swim, and Zevulun thought to give her that time. Maybe if his search came up empty and the day had stretched on for too long he would turn himself toward the Peak and see if he could find her before he returned to Luthien.
As it was Zevulun moved further for the Falls, but drew away from the namesake of the wide clearing. He was already chilled and damp from his ocean swim, the last thing he wanted was the misted blanket coming off the tumbling falls and the heavy roar filling his ears as he tried to listen to other conversations and see if he could pick anything up about Viðarr. Thinking of the cold he shook out his shaggy winter coat, letting more air fluff up the hair and hopefully help dry it a little faster. He was warm enough, though, having been born a child of Tinuvel and learning to grow and survive in horrible winters like he hadn’t faced elsewhere it was rare that a winter chill could phase him too terribly.
Zevulun pulled to a slow halt between the muddled line of the Meadows and the Falls, where the ground began to roll and slope up into mountains. He stood beneath their shadow, letting their might block any windchill as he further dried, and looked curiously around him. The mingling grounds were rather quiet, though it was still fairly early in the day. He knew winter could be a dead season but surely he would come across someone soon enough.
Deciding he’d have better luck if he tried more than just standing quietly aside, Zevulun whinnied out, picking up his pale knees as he pushed forward, beginning to trail the border line between both mingling areas, looking for the first sight of another horse he came across.
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