and you can't go back
when you cross the line
He doesn’t trust the island, not with how fickle it seems to be -- a barrier to entry one day, and then inviting the next, the taste of wild magic in the air and sea monsters within the waves. He is young, however, and not as cautious as he should be -- he joins in the crowd of horses that make their way across the obsidian bridge, his hooves tap-tap-tapping on the stone, his tail held low and swooping across the stones every few seconds.when you cross the line
When they spill onto the island his golden eyes grow wide, his breath shaking in his chest at the way everything seems so much more vibrant and alive upon the island. Bright, striking green clashed with the clear blue of the ocean, and the sand is as clean and pure as any he has ever seen (not that he has seen very much).
He takes a deep breath and steps forward, onto the sands.
