There was a kind of peace that sone only felt when they were settled in a familiar place, and what strength had been sapped by the long, long journey she'd been on, surviving the arid wastes of Salem on her own, was soon recovered in the shadow of the Hills. And yet, restlessness seemed to have rooted in the very marrow of her, so that she woke every day before dawn, and stole away to seek high ground, and look to the west, across the dunes and the desert plains, to the canyons at the far end of Salem.

Today, Senu lingered atop the sandy hill she'd climbed alone before the sun had cast it's light over the dry land. Marceline had not yet sought her out to let her know that she was heading off to meet with one of the other leaders of Salem, and Maelle had not yet appeared, so the sooty buckskin mare assumed that the mother and daughter pair were together somewhere. She had spotted Marceline's youngest son lingering near the shoreline, though. It seems he had taken to watching the ocean waves the same way she looked to the land, though the few times Imshael had been caught off guard by Senu's approach and had not darted off before she could speak to him, he had not been very forthcoming. But Senu could guess as to who it was he waited for.

Some part of her resented that things hadn't just gone back to the way they were before. Before Senu had made that journey to the Badlands with Marceline. Before the rains, and the flash flood. Before Marceline had fallen. Senu had thought the red mare lost to her forever. It had been devastating, to see her battered body, to have believed her to be lifeless. Something in Senu had broken that day, but despite the agony, at least there had been a sense of closure. Of course, Marceline had survived, but before learning of the truth, and being reunited with the mare she loved so dearly, Senu had been able to put the pieces of herself back together.

Not alone, mind. She had been saved, in more than one way, by Raegar, and his patience with her had allowed Senu to heal. He had given her purpose where she had none, a new identity, and though trials and tribulations had seen them parted more than once, they had come full circle. Just as as he had been there when Senu had needed him most, she had been there for Raegar, as Ripple, when he'd needed someone. But change had swept through Salem again, and while Raegar was yet recovering, Senu had lost track of him once more. But this time, there had been nothing with which to ease the absence of him - she found herself truly alone - and her only comfort had been the hope that the son they shared, who was to Ripple the brightest star in her sky, might be with him.

More than anything she had believed in before, it was this, that wherever they were, her stallion and her son were together. For the longest time, that was all the faith she had. And she'd searched, crossing back and forth across the waterless wastelands, desperate for any sign. The one she'd stumbled upon had been almost miraculous to her - Marceline, alive. But as happy as she was to be at Marceline's side again, there was an ache the buckskin's chest that simply wouldn't rest. Senu was only half of who she was. Much had changed in the years that they had been parted - the two mares who cleaved to one another - and Senu was no longer sure of where she fitted into the Hills herd. Much as she loved taking care of Maelle, the hours she spent watching over the Hills while Marceline fulfilled her duties as Queen weighed far heavier on Senu than they once had.

The love that Marceline had lost had just come back to her - the stallion she had built a life with in the Shore, before some misfortune had torn them apart, and prompted Marceline's return to the Hills. Senu had not asked Marceline what had transpired between them, nor was she going to, but despite the fact that he had left, and Marceline had not gone with him, the brindle mare hoped that knowing he was alive had brought the spotted queen some measure of comfort. Still, she held fast to her own hope, as frayed and thin as it had become. So when the faintest trace of scent was carried to her on the wind, Ripple did not hesitate to follow it, down from the hilltops and out to the fringes of the Dunes.

She stilled when she saw the pair of them some way ahead, but in the manner that Raegar himself had named her, her mane drifted on the breeze. And beneath the dust of Salem, the ribbons of gold in her coat gleamed as she moved toward them a moment later, readily closing the distance. "Raegar!" she cried, her throat tightening at the sound of his name, and how it felt to say it after so long. "Sway!" And stumbling in her haste to be wit hthem, to reach for the two males and prove to herself that they were real, Ripple embraced her son, and then brushed her muzzle tenderly along Raegar's jaw, her honey-brown eyes taking in the sight of him. The injuries he'd sustained had taken a great toll on him, but he was alive, and that was all that mattered to Ripple. "I looked for you both," she breathed shakily, overcome by emotion as she stood there close to both of them. "There was not one day when I did not think of you."