This island is the same and yet entirely different from the one she had washed up on previously.

She swims around it, rather than to it, and feels the change in the tides; she feels the saltwater shift, as if the ocean is not the same as the one surrounding Ischia. It delights her, and she lets herself linger for longer than expected in the warm waters, slipping through the underwater sea life with ease, her silvery eyes alight with pleasure. It is only when she hears the muffled sound of life on the shore that she even considers making her way toward it—and even then, it takes her several minutes to finally decide.

But, eventually, her curiosity gets the best of her and she angles her lithe body. She feels the familiar sand beneath her hooves and the strange gravity of coming up from the belly of the ocean. the way her lungs have to switch from processing the water to processing the air as she finally emerges from it.

The waves gently lap around her ankles as the water falls gently over her back and down her sides, her scales glistening beneath it. She gives a small shake, silvery mane roping as it falls, and then glances up, feeling the weight of water on her lashes as she surveys the beach before her. 

Like the watery depths, the beach is different from Ischia too, and she angles her head in thought, pursing her lips as she surveys it. She says nothing, just takes it all in, cataloging the bits and pieces in a mind that is full of knowledge not entirely her own—hungry, always hungry for more information.

When she finally sees the boy, her smile grows a little more coy, tilting up in the corners.

Her tongue touches her lip for a second, as if considering saying something more, but instead she ducks her chin in faux shyness, peering up from beneath the tangles of her forelock and the petals it contains.