Splitting off from her half-sister had made Airén breathe a sigh of relief. She was grateful, of course, that Claret had stepped in when Riesling disappeared – but the soft-spoken mare was a far cry from what Airén was used to. Adjusting to living together, surviving side by side without their mother to ease the way hadn’t been easy for either of them - it was so difficult, in fact, that Claret had dragged them off the more populated islands and hidden them away in some wild, unknown land.
Being so utterly, devastatingly alone was a far cry from how Airén had spent the first few months of her life, running rampant over the Crossing aisle, given free reign to be as much of a terror as she wanted to be resting safe in the knowledge that her mother would gut anyone who looked at her sideways. And then she had moved on to the dry heat of the Badlands, teeming with life and a herd forced to stick close to water sources. When they finally returned to Luthien, avoiding the ghosts of her mothers past but desperately seeking Claret, she’d been a confident yearling, accustomed to turning heads wherever she went, to attention and to getting her way.
But that all changed. And Airén hadn’t spoken to another equine in what felt like a lifetime, hadn’t had a conversation with someone other than her meek sister in literal years.
So breaking from the ocean and into the crisp autumn air of the Meadow is like stepping into an entirely new world, and Airén cannot wait.