The weather hasn’t begun to turn.

Outside the day is still bright - warm, in fact, a heat that comes when Summer can feel her inevitable end and Winter’s right hand, Autumn, begins to show. The sky is forgiving, cloudless, endless, stretching in one direction to greet the shores of Beqanna and in the other where the land begins to disperse and the sea takes her hold. Even the water seems calm today. Quiet, undisturbed, only offering a gentle breeze that brings the scent of salt and brine to the nostrils of any that might be passing by.

That is, until the churn and swirl of a whirlpool appears from far out to spit up the green-and-blue mare.

Circinae breaks through the surface with a sputtering cry, legs beating weakly against the blue expanse as she turns about in search of any land. Eventually, she rights herself and struggles to drag body and life to the shore, where each lungfull is like sharp knives against her throat, and every step is drunkenly placed. Exhausted, the girl crumples some feet up the shoreline, the heat already beginning to dry out her coat as her sides swell with gasping breaths. “Help…” She calls out softly, the shock of her strange swim sending tremors through her.

She’s not even sure of where she’s at.