The pale mare's voice had not been lost. It had egressed upon the amazon with a lucid gentleness, so quiesce and distant beyond the throbbing of her pulse and the thunderous symphony of her hooves that she had passed it off as a figment of her imagination. She'd thought it the voice of her sister, and certainly she had gone mad with exasperation, for her sister was no more. She had seen the vividness of her life slowly drain from her eyes, something Aerwela was not a virgin to witnessing.

It had acted as fuel to the flame ablaze within her muscles, burning savagely, though it had uprisen as more of a numb, tingling sensation due to the swift, relentless tempo of her gait. It rang out again, pristine and demanding; almost pleading. Caught off guard, the exotic vixen jerked her head abruptly toward it, white rimmed eyes searching for the one who had bellowed such a note. Her legs still pumping, her eyes settled upon something flashing in between the trees, a dim apparition, though noticeable none the less.

A pang of distress quickly evolved within her, her immediate reaction to turn and run faster - but something vague barred her from doing so. It was the glint of a sleek horn, reflecting what little light remained to guide the two bodies.

She returned her attention to the terrain ahead of her, head bowed as she collected her haunches beneath her. Her striped hooves skid viciously across the dilapidated leafage that mantled the forest floor, struggling to find traction. Snorting fiercely - a deep, nasal sound; a testament to her kinetic attitude - she came to a halt whilst her muscles shouted achingly beneath her thick, mahogany hide. Atop energetic hooves she stood erect, her entire body seemingly trembling with shock - overexerted, pushed to its proverbial limit.

Urgently she turned to regard the stranger, her joints locked and rigid. Her mane tumbled in a disheveled heap down her nape, tangled and pregnant with a collection of sweat, chilled by the cool Orangemoon air. She seemed so familiar - her pale complexion; the dimly glimmering blue of her eyes, dilute in the lack of light. The dimensions of her features connected with a name almost immediately, and Aerwela stared blankly toward her, perplexed. "Kou?" She uttered breathlessly, her feet stumbling in a rakish manner across the cluttered forest floor.

"Is that truly you?"

Could she be real? No, of course not. The Kou she'd known was dead, slaughtered by worthless, blood-thirsty hunters, the same who had threatened to grant her a similar fate. She exhaled, a gruff, strained sonance. "How is it that you're still alive?" Her accent laden voice was strong as always, though it beheld a new-found brusque inflection. Her nostrils flexed to an abnormal degree, her lungs expanding wide with each winded intake. She couldn't quite discern whether or not the mare before her was real, if she was more than an envisaged apparition. She was unsure whether she was merely a delusion projected by her restless mind or the filly she had known so long ago.

Shrouded in uncertainty, she outstretched her muzzle to touch her, her breathing shaky and plumes of smoke furling from her nostrils with each exhalation.