”We wouldn’t have had a chance to talk,” she says, and he nods, still grinning, for he feels the same way. It was nice to reminisce with one who remembered his earliest moments in this land, pleasant to walk alongside someone who was free from the dark memories of what had come to pass. Where Dragomir had only dreams of wicked devils falling upon his friends, Semira had a heart full of dragons and magic, an adventurous tale that surely had lightened his mood for the day, even if the conversation had grown to darker subjects. It will never cease to amaze him how full of kindness and light the women of the misty wood are, how swiftly they can melt even the most frigid soul if one is only willing to stand near their radiating hope long enough to feel the effects.

And then the game is on, the world flying by him in streaks of color and his laughter as free and wild as the wind; he can hear her trailing behind him, the more graceful beats of her hooves against the earth a fine alto over the deep drums of his own plates. The sky bleeds into a deep crimson tinged with indigo and magenta, lavender reaching its milky fingers through the dark weave of sunset, and the boy is free as he runs with the silver princess, his heart light and thoughtless as the bending of his tangled mane in the wind.

The flame flickers past him, startling enough that he shies playfully to the side, forelimbs held tight together as his hind legs buck out to the right of his frame, though the phantom has long since bolted past him and become air once more. A blasting snort ricochets against the trees and he finds himself chuckling again through the deep pulls of his lungs, amused that he can still be so easily thrown off and that he has so swiftly succumbed to the vibrant life that fills his young bones.

It has been too long, since he’s played like this.

The ghost of the wall appears before him, their approach swift and chaotic, and he can feel his heart swell with the usual happiness he feels when he returns to this place. Inside, he knows there are people he can trust, even if they cannot yet trust him, and he is happy to have been the one to guide one of their lost daughters home. Aiming his bulk for a sizeable gap in the wall that has left about three foot of the base standing, he leaps over the dilapidated structure and hunkers his haunches to the earth as he lands, sliding to a stop within the borders amidst a spraying cloud of dead foliage and dirt.

"Welcome home, Semira," he says, a smile broad and pleasant on his face as he trots nearer the princess, breath heavy from the thrill of their run. He wonders if he should call the others to greet her, but hesitates; it’s late, and she might be weary, and surely the others are preparing for the quiet peace of the Moon’s keep. If there are any nearby, they will come, he decides, or Semira will call them herself.