Meadow

Isla was not often given to anger. Unlike her mother, who held unwavering grudges for life, Isla firmly believed in a live-and-let-live philosophy. Any number of things could lead a horse to respond sharply or take out their anger where it didn't belong, and not make them a terrible soul. She often gave others the benefit of the doubt, even when it put her in awkward situations... much like this one.

Panting and furious, Isla glared back at the gold-dusted stallion with wary eyes, her lips taut against her teeth in a fierce grimace. She'd never been to the Lagoon herself, both because of it's long-standing reputation and out of a crumb of self-preservation, and she truly had little intent of ending up there today. It was a terrible place to be at the best of times, much less in the midst of autumn.

"No, I get it now," she snapped, her eyes white-rimmed with true fear for the first time in her life. "Ye wouldna ken what tae do e'en if ye'd wanted it."

He lowered his head again, and she could read his intention in every muscle of his body, not that he tried to hide it. Her mouth tasted dry and her gaze flicked upward, following the prayer she murmured to the sky.

Even so, Isla did not go easily. She skirted the edge of the Lagoon for as long as she could until she literally could not withstand him anymore, and only then - her skin scored with ribbons of red torn equally by teeth and wayward branch - did she finally turn to the interior of the fetid swamp and accept that she could not best him. That whether she liked it or not, the Lagoon was her prison.

For now.