Stone pathways and white buildings gave way to lesser buildings of wattle and daub and dirt tracks. This gave way to large enclosed fields that once brimmed with crops, but recently harvested, now with herds of animals roaming around in them. Beyond even this lay long fields filled with roses, white roses.
                It was dark as Dalaena had ridden out with Devlin on her old black mare, Veil , on the second morning since her arrival.  The rush of wind filled her with such an avid excitement that it felt as if she just could not go fast enough. She loved the feel of wind. When she was very young, she remembered standing on the highest tower where the bright fire of the lighthouse shimmered against her skin, and she looked out to the rivers and the world beyond of wonderful green dunes and blue waters. The wind was strong there, but that was not enough.
                Dalaena had always asked her father for wings, like the birds that would often land on the tower to greet her as she stroked their feathery bodies. Her father had laughed and told her if he could he would. She had cried for hours, so to appease her, he had brought Dalaena to her mother’s horse which she could not ride, being pregnant with Edaran. And so her lessons began.
                Immediately she took to riding as if she had been born with hooves herself. She rode every day, cared for her own horse. She even learned how to shoe a horse. When Dalaena became old enough and Edaran himself was too, it was her that had taught him to ride. Everyone who rode with her always told her she was such a natural that she should have been born a horse.
                Even now, Devlin rode far behind her as she galloped across the rose fields, bent low, whispering, urging Veil onwards. She had passed to the right of the pathway which led to the Rocke River and there they followed the bay of the river until even the hills of Popping in the very distance became visible, and the sun peeked from behind the distant horizon behind her. They had made a good few miles.
                In a sudden movement, as if Veil sensed it from her, she stopped.
                It took Devlin several minutes to catch up, and he reined in beside her.
                They looked out, the two of them. Far back, where the castle was less than the size of her hand, far far away where she could scarcely see, a bright golden coin rose up. Yet the light it cast rained upon the roses. The roses drank the light and opened up their petals, thirsty as suckling babes until their white petals burned like fires.
                The field glistened brighter than water.
                Dalaena reached out her hand and felt for Devlin’s whilst still on the horse. Not even looking, she found it and held onto it.
                They said nothing but watched.
                Dawnrose was named after just this event. It had been over a year since she had glimpsed it, and oh how she missed it so.
                When she finally looked away, it was to gaze at her brother’s face looking on in wonder.
                He seemed to sense her and blushed without turning.

The End

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