[private] we were the first that ever burst into that silent sea

[Lepis]

again you’re gone, off on a different path than mine i'm left behind wondering if i should follow “I ate so much prickly pear during my pregnancies I am surprised my children didn’t come out with spines,” Lepis confesses to the purple mare beside her, just enough of a smile on her own navy face to show she is teasing. Spined and blue, she’d teased her husband after yet another meal of blueberries and cactus fruit. When Pteron had been born with their blue on his face a few hours later, she could not help but laugh. Lepis blinks, and the memory vanishes into a dozen little wisps of emotion, hurried along by the winter wind. It leaves her with a smile though, one that remains even as she falls quiet and the pair of them make their way through the red landscape. Lepis knows the land well, moving confidently through the rock that rises around them. A few times she has to lead the way (some places are not wide enough for two horses to walk abreast, especially when both are winged and one heavily pregnant). The wind grows louder but more distant, howling along the top of the canyon but never reaching the two of them below. Ahead of them, a large weeping willow hangs over half of a still spring. A few paces from the landward branches of the willow, a patch of the cactus they have come for grows aplenty. The shallow roots are dug into a fallen tree, most of which has fallen into the water, where silvery fish teem about in the protection of its waterlogged branches. “That acacia tree fell down the year I was born,” Lepis tells the other mare. “I don’t remember it happening, but my mother said it was lightning struck. It must have landed in a patch of prickly pear, and they’ve just grown around it.” The biodiversity of her home has always been an endearing quality to the red land; other lands might have more sweet grass or orange groves, but only Loess has all of it. Having already eaten, Lepis hangs back, gesturing that Oceane might go ahead. There are plenty for them both, but this delay also gives the dun mare a chance to answer. The camaraderie that she’d summoned has drifted away, but it had only been meant for a moment, as a way to speed up things that she has hoped might happen. There is something to be said for having a friend that lives nearby, and while the Pampas is closer now than it was to Taiga, Noah still feels very far away. Izora Lethia and Lilliana had both chosen men over their friendship with Lepis, the tobiano mare thinks, and hopes the same will not be true for the budding friendship here. “I missed it here,” she admits. “The place is the same, but most of the people are different.” Different and younger, Lepis thinks, recalling blue Dracarys. The dun mare had met Dracarys’ mother when Valdis was younger than her daughter is now. It was one thing to be a grandmother, but to see the younger generations already carving their way is something else entirely. Something good though, Lepis knows, and thinking of elicits the rest of the answer. “I’m glad to be back, though. That’s for sure.” She smiles, the expression reflective of her words, and adds: “It’s a good place to raise children, too, I can say from experience. At least until they finally get brave enough to leave your side, but being able to fly is helpful for tracking them down.” LEPIS i’m the one who sees you home-- but now i’m lost in the woods and i don’t know what path you are on

@[Oceane]