The sunlight lasted longer this time, playing across his back with gentle fingers, twining into his long mane. The ends of it were plastered together, clinging to his chest and legs, just like the end of his muddied tail. Water did funny things to your hair. Then, as always, they passed into the shadow for a while, Brisa's voice floating gently on the placid air. One ear flickered back, listening to the change of her rhythm. Mauja craned his head slightly to the side as she came up beside him, and drifted gently to the side, to make room for her on the well-traveled path. It was a worthy question, and he expected her to let him mull over it in silence again, already turning the stones of his mind over and searching for the words, explanations: he'd been born into a kind of "brotherhood" (though sisters had been very much represented too, being of equal status), but even so.. you didn't simply know what it was. That took time. And even if you were born into it, you had to figure it out. But before he came even halfway to some kind of conclusion he could put words to, she spoke again. Something had apparently lifted her spirits, drawn her out from the shy, withdrawn state he felt she'd had back in the pond. Words tumbled out, light and curious, giving him no time to reply before more came out. The corners of his dark mouth drew into a smile, amused, the way you are at the antics of a child; but it ended with her apology, fading into nothing. Want something of her..? It sounded like an uncomfortable memory, something recalled but not welcome. Much as his curiosity wanted to pursue it, he let it be. For now.

"Don't apologize," he said gently, passing into the sunlight again. The trees had begun to thin already, and the faint breeze carried with it the scent of the world out there—of dry grass and sand, maybe even the faintest hint of salt. The ocean was far, far away, but the brine lingered in the air over the open, rolling dunes, even far inland. The blue of the sky hinted through the willows, and he tilted his head, nose sweeping forward to indicate it. "We're going where we're going. Once the trees end the sand dunes begin, stretching for miles until they reach the sea. But," and he turned back to look at her, the mischievous note fading from his voice, "-we are not going quite so far, today." It was tempting to let it be at that, to not answer more of her questions, because it brought many memories back to the surface—things to wade through, things he didn't want to recall. Because to think of them, was to feel the void opening up beneath his hooves, a keen recalling of just how adrift he was in the world.

But in some strange way, he felt like she deserved some amount of honesty—or maybe it was just because he wanted her honesty, and you can't get without giving. So he ambled along the path, thinking about what he could say, without saying too much. He was too freshly returned to Helovia to have formed lasting ties with anyone, and had not yet come across anyone he had ties to, except d'Artagnan: and the Basin was off-limits, with the twist his heart had finally forced his mind to accept. "There's no easy answer to anything," he finally said, sighed, and stepped out from under the last tree, into the splendor of autumn sunlight and the clear blue sky. A lonely gull had ranged far inland, and soared on the rising drafts. "I travel alone because for now, it is the best.. for me. And belonging..." It was a bit of truth that lodged in his throat, words that didn't want to spill out, because if she stopped to think about it, they said a lot about him. "It's when you realize you're no longer expecting them to betray and abandon you every single day. One day you just wake up and realize.. it has happened."