In the hours and days since Bacardi left her to visit the Prairie with Burn, Twinge has kept herself busy. Well, as busy as she can manage anyway. For the most part, the Forest remained untouched by the turmoil and struggles of the other islands. It was rare for her to come across an unfamiliar scent that did not already have Bacardi’s own close behind it. The forest remained at peace even in the aftermath of the storm.

Twinge had hoped that Bacardi and Burn would return before the dark blue-black clouds released their deluge upon the island of Tinuvel. Nervously, she had ventured closer still to the Prairie borders in hopes of catching a glimpse of the father and son duo if only to ease her anxiousness. Yet as the winds began to howl and jagged flashes of lightning drew closer, even she gave up her post for safety found beneath the towering trees. With the rest of the herd, she spent the restless night, her dark eyes scanning and readjusting with each strike of lightning. The thunder was deafening at times, hiding even the screams of the young foals of the herd. One foal bolted from its mother’s side and all thoughts of her own son and mate disappeared as she focused on keeping the children and the herd together. She can only hope that Bacardi and Burn have found themselves someplace safe to wait out the worst of the weather.

Morning rolls into the Luthien forest slowly. At some point in the night exhaustion must have taken hold for the red and white mare awakes to the pattering of raindrops filtering from the autumn leaves above. Dark lashes blink away what sleep clings to her eyes as she casts her gaze once more over the herd gathered tightly beneath the sheltering trees. Everyone seemed calm and the foal that had bolted in fear only hours ago lay nestled against the rough bark of the cedar trunk in deep slumber. A relieved sigh escapes her lips as gingerly she draws away from the herd as quietly as she can manage in the squelching mud. Despite the protective canopy the tall cedar trees had provided, her coat was damp with water. The usually silken strands of her mane lay plastered flat against her neck, snapping audibly as she tried to shake the worst of the water from her coat. If Burn were here, she would force the boy to dry her coat as she licked his own clean. But his absence provides for none of that luxury. She is sure that one of the other herd mares would oblige her were she to ask but the guilt she still felt from Bacardi’s stinging words kept her silent.

In an effort to settle her restless mind, the red and white mare decides to investigate what damage the storm might have left in its wake. Maybe in the process, she might finally come up with something suitable to keep her son occupied and out of trouble.

By late morning, the remnants of puffy clouds have passed and once more the bright, warm sun shown down upon the forest. Twinge has managed to patrol most of their northern border with nothing to note other than a few toppled saplings and a handful of rather large broken branches blocking one of their paths. None of which would prove to be too difficult to maneuver or avoid. It is only when she reaches the beach that she begins to feel as if something is out of place. Auburn brows knit together as she pauses beneath the skeletal remnants of an overturned tree to examine the hoofprints left behind by a stranger. Paper-thin nostrils flare as she sifts through the salty tang in the air but there is no hint that Bacardi has been here. Only the stale scent of a stranger.

Instead of continuing to explore the beach further, instead of seeing what else the storm might have washed up in its passing, Twinge turns to follow the stranger’s scent. Suspicion rises in her gut as deeper into the forest the footprints lead her. She slows her pace now as the stranger’s scent strengthens. Despite the cover of trees and dense brush separating them, Twinge could hear the tell-tale rip of grass that told her whoever this was felt comfortable enough to graze. Should she feel offended or curious?

Curiosity won. Gingerly she closes the space between the stranger and herself, stepping from behind the shelter of the forest’s shadows and into the bright sunlight that bleeds down onto the small glen. Dark eyes immediately fall upon the black and white stallion with renewed reserve. Was he here in an attempt to overthrow Bacardi and the little slice of peace that they had so far managed to hold onto?

The stallion lifts his head and nickers warmly in her direction, dipping his head in what she imagines could be a show of submission maybe? Maybe not she thinks to herself as a soft snort escapes her own lungs and she prances closer. Long, sleek neck coils tightly, pressing her finely dished muzzle tightly against her breast. Long white and red tail lifts proudly as she comes to a dancing halt near the tall stallion. A single brow arches as she lifts her head, extending her ash-dusted muzzle towards him in greeting. ”Are you lost, traveler?” the words slide from her lips in a gentle rumbling whicker, her dark lashes blinking slowly in appraisal.…