'Where am I?' her mind cries, aquatic eyes shifting around uneasily, ears dropped at a low angle in a frightened manner. 'I should have just followed Midas!' she whines once more to herself in the comfort of her head. Silently and ever so ungracefully, the growth-stunned mare stumbled around the flat meadow with short breaths and wide eyes. How she had gotten here was easy enough to explain: she was clearly lost. Without the aid of her painted savior, the brutt was once more just a mouse in maze full of fat, hungry cats.

It had only been a few days since her arrival here in the land of Helovia and already she has found herself parted from the comfort of her new home. The area was huge; full of rushing water and the most lush of grasses, and hidden very well by the thick vines and heavy branches created by who Kiara had called "the God of the Earth." Such a thing only confused the simple minded mare and caused her to struggle to attempt to imagine such a figure.

Night had fallen hours before, leaving the ragdoll in unfamiliar territory, just outside of what everyone else would call the Threshold. Despite the lack of stars hidden away behind cloudy skies, the harvest moon hung eerily in the air, providing rusty light for the brutt's travels. Her breath quivered in her throat, threats of tired tears becoming more and more real as she moved deeper toward the fork of the river. Soon enough, the water trickled on either side of the fae, the noise causing her to freeze in her tracks and hold her breath, ears propped forward and eyes shimmering with tears. She held this stance for a few moments, unable to breath or even blink before she could connect the sound with moving water.

"Oh-" she giggled, the air all coming out in a rushed and nervous giggle after she spoke. "I just.. I just need to calm down." the doll whispered, breaking the beginning of the sentence to draw in another breath to comfort her swirling head. The tears still danced across bottom eyelids, but refused to build up enough tension to break into small droplets. Once again, the ghostly figure -stained orange by the lingering moon- pushed her skinny legs toward the source of the water, her tongue now finding itself dry.

Thick blades of grass stirred around her legs as she sifted through the field, trying to find a trail to follow in order to retreat and find her way back home, but from here, everything looked exactly the same, and she wouldn't be able to tell west from east if she were asked. With no confidence, the doe decided to let nature take her along and decide where she would end up tonight. A clumsy trip over nothing but her own feet allowed the thin chain to rattle together in her antlers and the gem to bounce off of the base of her horn; a weak smile is able to touch the corners of her dark lips - perhaps her sire is still watching over her, somehow.