It wasn't what he had expected at all.

Because honestly, what does one do when the light that shifts and shimmers suddenly leaps into life, hovering gently, dashing this way and that, struck full of that golden glow? The moment his frosty, striped hoof had touched the odd little motes of light they'd begun to dance, slowly stretching up until he would easily be able to pass through, horn and all. Behind him, and to his sides, the forest of the Edge stretched out, pale mist swirling all around, hanging like sheets but set ablaze with the warm morning light. Mauja blinked, drew in a deep breath of air he knew, looked at the towering trunks and a spiderweb which glistened wetly in the morning light. This was the world he knew - a world he loved, a place he knew so very well. But when his cold blue eyes returned to that which was straight ahead, it was not the Edge spreading out as it always did. It was a land of winter, but a beautiful one; sunlight glinted off the cold, crisp surface of snow, unbroken. The air held the crystal clarity of really cold days, the sky pale blue. It was the kind of winter's day which Mauja loved. Cold, crisp, clear, yet if you stood still and simply let the sun play across your skin, you felt warm.

Why on earth it was here, he had no idea, but curiosity killed the cat (and some also claim it brought it back to life). With a last look at his well-known forest, the King took a deep breath, and stepped through the strange portal of light. Vertigo struck him for a moment, the breath hitching in his chest, heart skipping a beat and for the shortest of seconds it felt like the world fell away beneath his hooves. And then, he felt the snow under his hooves, the excess warmth being leeched out of him by the cold, still air, yet the sun warmed his back pleasantly. Fog steamed out of his nostrils with each exhalation, and without a glance over his shoulder he let his gaze sweep across the horizon of this wondrous place. He knew the horizon, the hint of the Arch to the south, the faintest shimmer of the ice cold ocean to the north. This - this was what he was born for, and a relaxed, pleased smile settled on his face.

A coo caught his attention, and drew it towards a single tree. Odd. He didn't recall there being many trees like this on the Steppe. Frowning slightly, Mauja began to walk closer to it. The entire thing, from stepping into a portal and somehow ending up in the Frostbreath Steppe in Frostfall, felt surreal - and that alone was no wonder. He'd been teleported through space and time both, so what was this? Real, or a dream? He felt light and airy, but maybe that was just the glory of winter invigorating him.

Finally he was close enough to make out real details in the tree, and the first thing that struck him was two black eyes staring back at him. They belonged to a snowy owl who blended seamlessly with the winter setting, though it sat unmoving there, simply watching Mauja with wise eyes. A shiver traveled down his spine, tail lashing against his hocks. There was a weight in those eyes, and as with all things, it seemed quite - off. The more he looked at it, the less it felt like he saw it, and the air around it seemed to shimmer and vibrate. Occasionally something sparked out, a foreign noise in his ears, but it came in quick flashes, too fast to see. "Greetings, winter one," he murmured, not quite sure why he was here, nor sure of where here was - or rather, when it had been?