theres an old man sitting on a throne thats saying...
Something was different.
Although she had only called the lake home for a short time, Iset knew the typical smells and sounds that resided there. And this one was different. It wasn’t anyone she had ever encountered; something she was glad for. If it a familiar smell, it couldn’t be anyone from her old life; it wouldn't be anyone who could hurt her or make her return to the Dunes. However, she couldn’t help but feeling a bit sad at the same time. If it wasn’t a scent recognized, then it wasn't Sakir either. But then, who was it? Could it be the ever elusive Brennen? She was determined to find out.
Stumbling over the craggy rocks and yanking her thin legs to free them from the weeds ensnaring them, Iset makes her way around the lake to where she can finally see the silhouette of a small, slender horse. If this was Brennen, she had no idea how she was supposed to help her and Amet with anything. He was so…little.
The closer she got, the filly realized that there was no way that this was Brennen. Whoever this horse was, he was young; about her age she’d wager.
“Hey!” she yelled, paying no mind to the daydream she appeared to be interrupting. She strode up to him, pulling her shoulders back and lifting her chin. “Who are you? And why are you here?"
...I should probably keep my pretty mouth shut