Meadow

Raising a child not of Zevulun’s blood is…odd. Airen is impulsive and hot-headed in a way none of the rest of her brood are; she is haughty and prideful, as bad as Riesling is on the worst of her days. And with none of Zevulun (none of his gentle corrections, his earnest good-hearted support, his affection) to temper the worst parts of herself, Riesling fears a bit she has created a monster. Airen is beautiful - stunning, actually, and if Riesling is honest about it she is undoubtedly the loveliest of her brood.

The problem, though, is that Airen knows it. It was a bit of an issue - they’d made it from the Falls back to the Badlands easy enough. And Riesling put that infuriating, bulky ass of a stallion out of her mind in short order. For the first few months they were fine - and then AIren grew into her gangly legs. With all of the Salem yearlings skulking about? Well, Riesling couldn’t hardly keep them from her daughter, and after the first time Airen managed to talk some silly colt from the eastern edges of Salem into nearly killing himself walking across the endless sands, she knew that they needed to get out.

Back in the Meadow, Riesling worries less what nonsense her daughter gets up to - here, she is free to flirt and manipulate to her heart’s content. Riesling can breathe again, out from under the watchful eye of her brother, out from under the anger of her Salem-hardened daughter.

With a brief discussion on the dangers of the Common and the Lagoon, Riesling lets Airen go. Unsurprisingly her daughter doesn’t make it far - one hundred yards, perhaps. Still easy to see, but far enough away that they both have some semblance of privacy from one another. Riesling has chosen a less obvious spot, tucked in the tall grasses under the generous shade of a tree. Perhaps if she is lucky, she can nap here for a few hours before the cycle starts over again.