Falls

The times he spent away from the Prairie these days were few and far inbetween. Zevulun found himself comfortable in his home, its peace and comfort fostered there through tireless years of dedication. Even through loss after loss, it remained a safe haven. He made sure it was so. The sorrows and guilt that had plagued him for years grew less and less, their metaphorical weight lighter and lighter, until he learned graciously to accept what they were and learn their hard-brought lessons. Leading the Prairie through the years, learning to stay in one place, to raise children and see them through clear until they were ready to leave on their own, helped him grow in ways he had never anticipated.

With the quiet that’d come, Zevulun sensed there would be activity soon, and an idea struck him as he grazed through the fertile, rolling hills of his home. It’d been some time since he actively recruited or even made an attempt to find a new herd mate beyond the Prairie borders. He was satisfied and comfortable with those he had, often choosing to spend his time with hearts in his eyes for them, gleaning any bit of attention and time they might offer… but he was who he was at his core and Zevulun, the lover, found himself with a taste for something new. Perhaps it was the approach of Fall and the fact that both spring and summer had been kind to him, at home in the Prairie with his herd, that Zevulun had come into himself quite handsomely. He’d filled out, well-muscled and well-fed.

So, Zevulun decided to at last award himself a small trip away from Luthien and to Crossing Isle. In truth his heart wasn’t set on much, though he hoped to cross paths with a pretty mare he might at least flirt a little with, even if he couldn’t convince her to come home. Just the thought filled him with a sort of anticipatory energy, his head held high and his steps light, pale threads of his tail flagged out elegantly behind his speckled haunches.

The Falls had long been his favored mingling area and often where he crossed paths with more agreeable company. It was there he turned, making his way down the Peak shoreline and toward the clearing, hearing the distant hum of the tumbling water as he drew closer. His steps faltered somewhat, coming to a slow halt as he caught sight of the dark mare with long, silvery hair just across the way. For a moment he convinced himself his eyes were playing tricks on him and that he’d blink and she’d be a figment of his imagination… but even as he drew to a full stop and watched her from afar, the pretty mare did not evaporate into the mist of the Falls. She was real. She was here.

Zevulun felt his heart crawl up into his throat and whinnied a soft song out toward her. He started to move again, to walk through the soft cool wetness coming off the waterfalls and over the damp ground toward where she was. “Sabriel,” he called her name out to her when he was close enough; when she could hear him where he could talk at a soft rumble just above the Falls, but not loud enough for anyone nearby to catch their words. “It’s so good to see you.”

And it was. Just to see her… even if she faded beyond his touch again just as she had last time and the time before that… to be awarded this moment in time where she was tangible and real before him… Zevulun was grateful.