Darkness; that is what had broken my corrupt soul, what had caused them to grab ahold and take control. No. Perhaps not the darkness, perhaps fear. Fear of what is, what may be, what we cannot see. What lingers in the eerie fogs of the night, the shroud of mist acting as a cloak for oncoming predators and mishaps, along with our imaginations. The imagination is a frightening thing: strong and vivid enough to make you believe what was a only figment of your very mind is able to step into the open, able to stare you in the eye as if it were real.. breathing.

My body is becoming thicker -bulkier- with the amount of wandering that I had pushed myself through for weeks. Helovia was no longer a lifeless heap of cold earth, supplied with much life and warm bodies of various shapes and sizes of horses. Mountains and endless flats stretched out beyond my field of vision for so long; why had I endured them and left behind the home that I did not even know? That is exactly why. I know no one. Those that I have grown to know had disappeared as well. Perhaps this will be a large step forward... Or possibly a leap of faith to only be a no one once more. Just as shameful as I was before.

I have not been alone through this useless journey though, oh no! They have kept me company, those who I had decided to finally name along my short journey through marshes and mountain tops. Though, with this brought up now, I cannot remember their names. For years I have been able to ignore -for the most part- their comforting, sultry, edging, and irritating chirps.. but that meeting with that foal.. something had been bent and torqued, able to push aside and allow them in. Flared tempers and deep sloes of depression are the key to their control; being away from every one and everything that Helovia has brought to my already picked apart and deteriorating mind has helped the barrier between their thoughts and my own build back up.

Here I am, once more, with my bright red snout and matching fiery eyes, wandering the Threshold. My first encounters here, I was still young and frightened: I had not been in contact with others very frequently my entire life, so scents and evidence of other large bodied animals overwhelmed me. I had awoken covered in sweat and filth due to my lonesome travels, and taken into the merciless gates of the Aurora Basin. One time and one time only had I been able to experience the glorious dance of vivid light through the crystal clear night sky; stars dancing like the undeniable twinkle of an old man's bright eyed smile.

Not this time.. no. Now I stand strong and tall: I am no longer included in the Basin -common knowledge tells me this much. Though my body longs to bury itself into the deepest of snows -plow through the thin layer of crunchy icy with a few short strides- I know I may never be able to do such a thing again. Instead, I stand with my crimson snout tucked into my chest, intense eyes staring ahead at nothing. Both auds sat cocked back toward my thick mane, listening to what may lurk behind. Whatever -or whoever- comes my way, I intend on taking in. I have nothing to give, nor do I have anything to show. I am a wanderer: a hopeless, psychotic, schizophrenic wanderer.

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