Common

Sometimes, Isla decided, the world simply made no sense. It had been years since she had last stepped foot on these accursed isles, years since she had allowed herself to walk along these familiar trails, and yet it felt like no time at all. She half-expected to see Kerr’s little face peering around the next bush begging for another game of tag, or to hear her mother’s half-hearted scolding of her grandson from behind the trees.

As much as she resented the islands after her last period of capture, there was a part of her that was hopeful, too. That remembered the good in the islands, in the sparkle of Ori’s eye, in the kindness Zevulun offered her mother, in the warmth of the sun and the briskness of the wind. She loved it here, more, she realized than she hated it.

Even so, Isla was no foolish girl any longer. This time, when she entered the Commons, she angled herself northward, so that the Peak was a mere jog away. There was no guarantee the Lagoon wouldn’t come this far up, but she was prepared and had a plan this time. She would not risk getting captured again.

The pinkish mare moved past the tree-rimmed edge of the Commons with steps that were more confident than she felt, her plain little head held high. Like her mother, Isla was pretty in a rugged sort of sense. Her Welsh and Norwegian blood gave her slender body an innate sturdiness that was offset by her pretty pink and white coat, and further softened by the warm smile she normally wore. Said smile was a little strained by nerves today, but it ghosted across her lips each time she passed someone, accompanied by a nod of her head and some nondescript greeting. She wasn’t sure what it was that she was looking for, only that she assumed she would know when she found it, the same way she had when Ori looked at her the first time all those years ago.