Something’s wrong… were two words no one liked to hear, but when they were spoken with increased panicked from the lips of a mother concerning a filly that may as well be his daughter, Zevulun absolutely hated them. He swallowed against the panic that immediately arose, a slideshow of memories suddenly flying past him of all the ways he’d failed his loved ones in the past few years and all the daughters he had let down. Would he be adding sweet Vervain to that list that was already horribly long as is?

He set aside his increasing worry and made sure to remain composed for Daire. The last thing she needed was for him to go up into hysterics. She needed him to remain a wavering pillar of strength she expected him to be. He flicked his pale ears out and glanced off in the distance as Daire concluded that Vervain should’ve come back by now. It was as if his heart was hoping to see her figure cresting one of the nearby hills of pale yellow grasses, likely ready to apologize profusely for worrying her mother.

But the horizon stayed empty. Zevulun looked back at Daire and nodded. “I’ll gather the Guardians and have them do a sweep over the Prairie. If not here, they’ll look out over Luthien.” Surely they would find her; he wouldn’t allow himself to think she could be off the island completely, as Zevulun knew Vervain had yet to travel anywhere else, even temporarily. He turned away to walk a few steps off, raising his pink muzzle into the air and gathering the breath in his lungs to bellow out for the Guardians of the Prairie.

Yet, right before then, he took note of a horse-shape coming from the direction the sea lay, and before he thought about any striking physical differences and paused to observe, he felt a wave of relief. “Daire, look!” He called out, voice already hopeful, glancing over at her rather than at the figure now approaching them, still not having realized it wasn’t Vervain…