Ridge

Watching the young mare be herded back into the Lagoon had left a sour taste in her mouth, and the little dun had remained restless in the days since, her gaze often following the direction they'd taken across the ocean. She had never crossed into the Lagoon herself, but she'd heard plenty of stories about who they were and what they were like. Her mother had loathed them, and had spared no single word of praise for their kind or their motives. Her father had been more pragmatic in his wisdoms, but not enough to shake the unease that Siobhan had instilled.

If she had done more, would the girl still be safe? Would she have come to stay in the Ridge and become a part of the family? Or would helping her have only painted a target on the Ridge, bright enough for the pack of dogs to see?

She didn't know, and the not-knowing kept eating her alive.

She found herself at the ocean's edge once more, the late morning sun unusually weak on her back. The past few days had been plagued by light rain showers and it felt like the world was tired, a status she, too, identified with. The sea lapped at her hooves, but she did not move, letting the slow rhythm of the waves, coax her mind into a semblance of relaxation. She wasn't sure where Arroyo had gone to, although she knew he was still here, given the freshness of his scent at the border, and felt silly calling for him. He was busy, and likely preoccupied if the scent of the Shore's lead on the air was any indication. He didn't need to baby sit her any more than Sionainn did.

Didn't stop the girl from watching her mother from the forest, though, her own thoughts pensive as she pondered her plans for the future.