As gentle and fair as the moon, the rain girl moved along unhurriedly through the sunlight, slender dark legs swinging haltingly as cleft hooves pressed upon half-melted snow. Huyana could be said to be anything but lethargic, but as the warmth pressed upon her silvery flanks and the gentle alpine breezes tickled her whiskers, she felt as if nothing could be done. Pale mountains cradled their valley, rising as high and majestic as ancient deities, protecting their sacred valley from any who wished to intrude. Her home was a safehold: but the roan could not help but feel unease here nowadays, even as the warmth made her lazy and tugged her lids with sleepiness. She felt a gathering sense of disquiet nestled in her heart—she thought back to the dark days, the shades long removed; were these blessed days permanent, or a cruel trick to lull them into false security?

Dismissively, the scholar tossed her head, meandering aimlessly through her home. By remembering night, she was wishing away day, so she desired to think about more beautiful things; birds sang lazily from their high perches—vaguely, she wondered what stories they crooned—were they ballads of love? (her stomach tightened) Or were they epics of more noble times, recounting mighty days and gentler eras—
The previously unnoticed babble of nearby voices caused the mare to pause, a hoof suspensed cautiously as attentive ears flicked to and fro. Not usually one to pry, but with nothing more to do, the scholar found herself in pursuit of this gathering, nares flaring as they sought out its location. It did not take her long to find them—a curious huddle of bodies; she recognized most of them: her general, young Carnesîr, the Lady Illynx, the mad red doctor, but one figure caused her brows to furrow with scholarly incomprehension.

It was tall, towering over the rest—its bottom half was graceful, rich chestnut in color, vague darker dapples lining its flank, but what was where the resemblance to anything familiar ended. Its top half was bald, naked; nearly painfully so, covered by dark pieces of skin. The ruddy rind and flat, predatory face recalled a tale the Tome Guardian once recounted of a hairless, two-legged race. They had built his Manor, but had disappeared shortly afterward. The mare drew to a halt near the Reaper (if she could, she would have blushed painfully), perhaps vaguely murmuring a word or two in way of greeting, but it was obvious her attention was taken raptly by the creature before them. Lefiri, Carnesîr said. Blue eyes considered it, not unwelcoming but inconclusive, gazing at the creature as if it were a specimen to study. A strange name for a strange creature, she decided. It spoke their language; she yearned to exchange words with it, to discover its place of origin, what it ate, its habits, but she bit her tongue, letting the other's words pass over her own.

Study incomplete, Huyana cocked a hoof, waiting for the man to answer the question which sprang on all of their lips: what was he?

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