The faint breeze whispered through the treetops and brought about many new scents. Of pine and tree sap, leaf mulch and the faint hint of ash. Hera had, of course, smelled all these things in lands passed, but each time they were different. The lands, the magic, the residents, everything changed the way the land was. Every place was unique. It was why she found it so disorienting. She was sure that at some point, she had taken a wrong turn and now she was just walking in very large circles. Ironic really, that while most got lost in the desert, Scheherazade could navigate it with her eyes shut - yet put her in a forest or in a hilly area and she got lost within moments. She found it infuriating. And she was quite sure she had seen that tree before. She didn’t come all this way just to be bested by a large clump of trees. That was just insulting. And embarrassing. And the scents were all off. There was no defined smell anywhere. Normally she would just latch on to a trail and follow it until she found her way out. But the breeze seemed to come from everywhere and just confused her further. Of course, admitting that she was lost was something she’d never do, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t be vexed about it.

Then the wind brought her the perfume of another horse and she stopped walking. There were various other equine scents, but none stood out as clearly - because none were as close. Movement caught her eye and pulled her attention to the pale shape as it became visible, brilliant blue eyes locking it in an unblinking stare. Hera stood stock still, quickly analysing the stranger and taking in as much information as she could. Pale, but tipped with red as if her hair had been trailed through blood. And it was a her. That figure was far too feminine to be anything else. Lithe, but still bulkier than herself (nothing new there) with a definite youth to it. The girl was young, very young. But in those strange, two-toned eyes was something which was distinctly not childish. Scheherazade’s mother once mentioned ‘old souls’ and Hera herself had come across them from time to time. She had to wonder if this wasn’t another one of them.

Finally, as the mare approached, her eyes rested on the horn. While it was not what Hera was used to growing up, she had quickly discovered that her family unit’s horns were not the norm. If anything, the one belonging to the girl before her was the archetype and Hera’s was the deviation. While it startled her when she was younger, to find such wild variance in her fellow unicorn’s horns, it now washed over her like nothing. As the young girl spoke, she couldn’t help but let a faint smile. Her eyes said she experienced much, but she still held curiosity. Good.

Black ears flicked forward and her head tilted at the place the mare spoke of, brows twitching into a frown momentarily. “Isilme?” Even with her exotic accent, the word tasted foreign and strange. She shook her head. “Much further.” Hera glanced skyward, pinpointing the sun and quickly determining the direction before pointing her pink muzzle eastwards. “Walk towards the rising sun for three years until you come to the smoking mountain, then turn south.” Her words were gentle and lilting, her gaze once again resting on the pale mare. “Walk until you reach an endless sea of sand and then continue for twelve days without water until you reach the oasis. There, the Sha’lok tribe will welcome you. That is where I am from.”

She had noticed the approach of another as she spoke, his pale spotted hide catching the corner of her eye and attempted to pull her attention from the mare. It was only after she had finished she let her gaze drift to the baroque stallion that had entered the frame. He was…interesting to look at. But his whole appearance made Hera feel cold. Even his horn looked as if it was carved from ice. And that term he used. ‘Sister’. It confused her momentarily and she merely looked puzzled, staring at him for a second or two. “Hmm. Forgive me, but has been a long while since anyone called me such. I am Scheherazade, brother.” She dipped her head in greeting and fell silent. She was familiar with this process and would let it play out, interested in how it would differ from other lands.