Alina watched the soft-cheeked boy fade into the darkness and then climbed up into Moonstrider’s saddle. The mare gave a soft whicker and tossed her sandy mane.

“I was making new friends,” the dancer giggled in Fallieni. She put one soft-booted foot in a stirrup and levered her lithe body into the saddle. Sitting astride the horse felt as natural as breathing. She relaxed for a moment, remembering all the times she had straddled a horse in the arid deserts of Fallien. The cool, moist night air kept her grounded on Corone, though.

She heeled her steed’s sides and set the mare to a gentle trot along the road. Loose thatch flapped on the tavern’s roof, and the same breeze teased the dancer’s long dark hair.

This is a strange land, with many strange people and customs, Alina told herself as she rode, it was a lucky occurrence to find friends over ale. I should not have let them all away. They might have had much to teach me of this place…

As she rounded a corner Alina spotted the familiar figure of the diminutive singer, making her way towards the nearby fringe of the forest. Alina did not fancy the forest overmuch; she was used to open plains and rolling dunes, not the thickly interlocked trees and plants native to Corone. Besides, as she had recently learned, plants could be quite dangerous.

The Fallieni dancer heeled her horse to a canter until she caught up with the tiny performer. She leaned down from the saddle, extending an open hand toward the woman.

“Ride?” She said.