”Ruske!” My own name drifted through the fog. It sang sweetly in my ears – familiar. ”Evangeline?” I answered quietly, convinced my thoughts had conjured the sound. How else did she manage to arrive precisely when I desired her company? But no – she spoke again, the sound like a ghost in the fog. I lifted my head the better to seek her out; she was only the distant noise of hoof beats, muffled. Like playing hide and seek.

     ”Evangeline!” I called more loudly, voice rattling hoarse in the very depths of my lungs. Shortly thereafter I suppressed a cough, my tail flicking angrily in response. Would the damned memory never truly retreat? With a shake of my head, I stepped forward. My appetite fled; I had no desire to eat with Evangeline nearby. We had much to discuss, she and I… things more suitably brought up at our initial reunion, but such had been my condition, I remembered only very faintly that first sight of her, the odd sensation I had forgotten myself again and wandered into a dream… Yet it had proved real enough, and I was whole again, if terribly diminished – almost enough to regret meeting the young mare in my present state, though not entirely.

     ”Follow my voice” I spoke blindly into the fog. Was that her shape, a shadow – just there? I could not be sure; the distant ocean, the low cloud cover, the trees – all played uncanny tricks with the properties of sound. I paused, tail switching again. ”I am indeed here, and I would like to speak with you.” Perhaps it was fitting I should be lost within the confines even of my own home – home, how strange a word. I snorted. Couldn’t the dragon, at least, show her the way? Or had it become useless in its old age? I had no inkling of such a creature’s lifespan – perhaps Evangeline knew. I would ask, once other things were handled properly.

     And there: my eyes at last caught a shape darker than the clouds, light as they were with sunlight. Soon I supposed they may burn off; I would appreciate the absence of the clinging cold. But I swallowed my discomfort and stepped toward Evangeline, the orange colors of her hide visible as the water vapor shifted. ”There you are. You are well, I hope?” I cast a keen eye over her shape. She appeared healthy – moreso than myself. I nodded. ”This place is nothing like the Woodlands.” I remembered bitterly; my last moments beneath the trees had smelled of smoke. Speaking aloud, I was struck anew by guilt, and fell silent. Difficult to look her in the eye, with years between us and the wreckage of an old camaraderie. I could not hope she had awaited my return with any optimism – better to be forgotten, and see my friend with a new life, than to have been remembered, a burden even in my absence.