I was restored. Months of poor upkeep prior to my arrival at the World’s Edge all but disappeared, rendered trivial in face of the healer’s power. When I thought of her, gratitude stirred in my breast, though confusion marred the power of the feeling. Rarely had I found myself in debt to another – my profession dictated the dynamic worked in the opposite direction. Yet the reality remained, and I wondered what I might do to repay my debts. I was no coward who wished to throw them off as burdens, but I felt keenly the need to serve in some way. Perhaps it was merely a social need manifesting, capable of display only due to my improved condition. Too long had I wandered through the world, my thoughts askew. I must collect them – reorder them. Though I was lowly, I did not intend to remain so.

     The forest rose as a dark, many-headed shadow all around me. Common sense dictated I should fear the compressed space, but my previous time spent in such a woodland brought only pleasant memories. It was through those I sorted as I moved, hooves beginning necessary exploration though much of the land was veiled beneath a low covering of cloud. I wondered if the fog was a common phenomenon here; distantly my ears caught the crashing of waves on rock, and my improved sense of smell filtered the bitter tang of salt from the air. So it was a coastal forest? Unlike my Woodlands, then. These trees, anyway, were nowhere near as dark – they stood straight and scattered enough to dismiss any notion of captivity, or secrecy (a pity).

     I had not expected to yearn for my old home as I did. Upon leaving Isilme, I had not expected to be stricken by more than an inkling of melancholy. Of course, in the back of my mind, yet unburied by excuse, lay the cold fact of my long-ago flight: that in a time of need and weakness I had laid my herd low, quite unnecessarily. I had struck a match, and the flame spread farther than any nightmare may have warned.

     My hooves struck grass; light diffused more brilliantly through the fog. Beyond the cage of trees, the roar of the ocean greeted me like a living thing, and cautiously I paused. I had no way of divining an end to the meadow, or measuring the nature of the sea beyond; I had no wish to throw my body off a cliff so soon after returning to life. I paused instead, and without interest began picking at winter’s late scraps of meadow. If I wished to serve at all, I should focus on regaining my body’s meager strength. Though never a particularly inspiring creature, I had at least been fit, in my youth. Certainly I could do better than this skeletal wreck, ragged flesh hung over creaking bones.

     I ate quite alone, and yet the scents of others lay thick on the grass. They were here, perhaps nearby – my herd mates. Kindly creatures, I supposed – Evangeline would lead me to no nest of barbarians, though I sometimes doubted her ability to call failure where failure ought to be called. She, too, was kind… I wondered where she had gone off to – not far, certainly. I had already gathered she did not serve this herd as healer; though I had no place in directing her life’s course, I did wonder at the choice – and much besides. What had led her here, and had she come alone? Did others I know move about in the fog, unbeknownst to me? A million aching thoughts, all swarming tireless against the inside of my skull. I had quite forgotten the phenomenon, in my illness. But I did not regret.