Common

Though his time on the Crossing had been time well spent, it would be foolish for Gwyn to spend all of his time here. Whatever grand ideas he had for himself and the rest of the islands were best made and planned in the heart of his Thicket. He had grown to enjoy the islands, at least what he had seen of them so far, and he could understand why so many horses had come here; and then never left. If he was being honest, Gwyn hadn't been entirely sure about his new home at first, but the more time he spent the more it seemed as though it had been him who had been lost, and not the islands.

He'd seen the sparkling waterfalls, inspected the meadow's sweet grass, and even swam out to the ruins to explore a land that was only just beginning to thrive again. He had not yet inspected the other islands, but it would come in due time. His original interest had been in Tinuvel for it's colder climate. It had been entirely coincidental that he had found the Thicket. Though it had proved to be just what he needed thus far.

He ambled down the beach, far more relaxed than he should have about the time of returning to his home. Truly Gwyn followed only the beat of his own drum and was willfully ignorant of anyone else's. It suited him, he thought, and he'd done just fine so far. Whether it was dumb luck or a strong intuition was anyone's guess.

"Excuse me," came a voice and Gwyn halted, turning his head in the direction he'd heart it. No one was there. He furrowed his brow, a crease forming at the top of his eye. Only when she finally emerged from the tall grass did Gwyn finally think to look down. She was a tiny thing, at least compared to him.

"Go?" he asks, craning his head over her to peer across the water. "And where would you go?" Despite his earlier plan of returning to the Thicket, he found himself curious about the little mare. He cocked a hind foot, relaxing, as he turned his pale gaze back to her.