Ridge

The call comes faintly through the trees, muffled by the rainforest’s abundance. It’s panicked and grief-stricken, and it confuses and alerts Renvari from somewhere higher up in the Ridge. From where he is, he can’t see the shore or the source of the cry; to put eyes on the distressed soul would require he either climb to one of the ledges that juts out over the trees, or to go down there. He chooses the obvious option.

The speckled stallion makes his way swiftly through the broad leaves and ducks beneath hanging vines. The canopy of this part of the Ridge’s jungle is seamless, and his path lies in perfect shadow, unbroken by shafts of light or dapples on the forest floor. Thin mist curls around his feathered legs, and then rushes in agitation out of his path as he moves.

He is not greeted by bright sunlight when he spills from the forest and into the sand. Renvari is grateful to not be blinking away sunspots. Instead, beneath the heavy clouds and beside the iron-gray sea, two figures are immediately visible to him. One is standing. The other, slightly larger, has clearly collapsed in the sand. Renvari takes this in quickly, his ears twisting back and forth a few times as he processes the scene. Then he starts toward them.

It was the smaller one, the child, who had cried, Renvari thinks. He trots toward them, whickering softly in a tone he hopes is reassuring. He doesn’t recognize either the filly or the adult — the mother, he assumes — in the sand. "What happened?" he asks, pausing a few strides away and trying to spot any wounds or other clues as to why the mare had collapsed. It reminds him painfully of his own mother’s death, and Horizon’s sorrowful bleating as he led the infant colt away from her body. He doesn’t want to upset the filly by getting too close, but also doesn’t want to, in case he sees Faolain’s face there instead of a perfect stranger’s.

stallion | mutt | grullo snowflake sabino | 16.1hh | ridge