Aether took one step in the red earth that instantly felt wrong. Then, from beneath and to the side of him, there was a gentle rain-like trickle that swiftly crescendoed into a raucous clatter, and before he could gather his wits the earth was pulling him downward in a miniature landslide. Aether lurched forward, white limbs scrambling for purchase, but every step crumbled beneath him and pulled him down stride by stride. As a shrub scraped against his hindquarters, his center of gravity wavered dangerously and then — right as he was about to lose his balance and tumble down the hill — it all abruptly stopped. Aether planted his hooves on firm ground and exhaled heavily in relief.

It was then he realized he had somehow got turned around while sliding downward, and was now facing the direction he had intended on moving away from. Standing right before him was a young mare about his age, her sleek black body splashed with strong white markings. Aether's eyes widened and his mouth gaped. Somewhere off in the sunset a hawk cried mournfully.

"Um. Hi," Aether finally said, his voice quiet and croaky. Suddenly self-conscious of the cactus juice on his lips, he darted his head down to wipe his muzzle on one foreleg.

It was not often that Aether spoke to others his own age, especially mares. The islands seemed to be teeming with older individuals that had become settled while generations of their descendents fledged and went off to see the world. And when Aether did come across his peers, he found it difficult to approach them. During their travels on the continent when Aether was about a year old, his sire had once encouraged him to talk to a young filly he'd found attractive, but while approaching her Aether had tripped over his own legs and nearly fallen flat on his face before scurrying back to hide behind his sire. A year spent in self-imposed exile in the Salem wastelands quite possibly had regressed his social skills back to that time.

"That wasn't supposed to happen," Aether added.