He emerges from the trees with every intent of maybe taking a quick gallop down the beach, then possibly heading into the mainland to possibly do some recruiting, or something, but he is sidetracked by the sound of the waves crashing on the shore at high tide, and despite a normal aversion to swimming (wet feathers work about as well as one would think they do), the bay stallion walks out into the water until his knees are submerged, and then the cold water touches his barrel, and then his wings are spread, floating on top of the water, and he slips off of the ledge where the shore drops off and he swims in a wide circle before returning and emerging from the water, shaking off the worst of it and standing quietly, feeling peaceful.

It is at that time when the shadow of another pegasus covers him momentarily in shadow and Brennen raises his amber gaze to the sky to investigate. He recognizes the bay-and-green girl despite the height at which she is soaring, and though his heart immediately leaps into the sky with her, the stallion is grounded for now, until his spread wings have dried under the midday sun. Brennen is forced to wait and see if she chooses to come down to him; he supposes that he has a 50/50 chance...she is either coming or going, and there is nothing he can do to change it.

Content in that knowledge, he lifts one foot and settles into a relaxed stance, overlarge black wings spread out far and eyes closed to wait for something to change. He will hear Krone descend, or any others who choose to approach.

The sound of air through feathers is as familiar to him as his own heartbeat. His childhood was full of feathers; he was raised from birth until nearly a year old by the ravens and he flew before he could even really walk. It doesn’t matter how long he has lived in civilization, it is the sky that he loves the most, and the birds who were his first friends. So he hears her coming to ground, and slowly blinks his eyes open, focusing on her as she preens quickly and then meanders in his direction, sinking into the sand with each step.

“I thought,” he drawls, “I should at least pretend to know what it is like for those who have to swim back and forth from the mainland.” A brief, laughing tilt of his head. “In case they ask, during recruiting. You know how it goes, they worry about the weirdest things.” The bay half-mantles his wings, feeling the dampness still beneath the very top surface, and then spreads them again as far as he can. He turns his honey-brown gaze from her to the waves lapping at the shore behind him and adds, “You would really have to love it here, I think - to be stuck here all but a few hours of low tide when it is possible for those who must walk to cross.”

He is thoughtful as he turns back to her. “How are you liking our new home, so far?”