When battle befell the Falls, Elecampane had been at a loss as to what to do. Would he stay, and defend a territory he had become a part of only weeks before? He had barely earned his rank. If he were noble, he would have fought valiantly despite that fact. However, he wasn’t. One couldn’t exactly accuse Ele of being a coward—he stood up for himself, and spoke his mind, that was for sure—but he was selfish.

The sable stallion’s eyes drifted towards the sky. Sunlight trickled down through the rocky gorge where he hiked. The jagged, grey stone underfoot made the brute’s hooves ache uncomfortably. Each callous step reverberated up Ele’s entire leg, into his shoulders and down his spine. His disheveled pelt shimmered with beads of sweat, and his lungs heaved with exhaustion. ‘Damn this trek,’ he thought, spirits muddied with uncertainty. He wondered how much longer he would have to endure this agony.

Back when he was living in the herd, he was told of the mysterious place at the end of the trail that carved through their mountains—a valley of sorts. The champagne stag had made the decision to leave once tensions were on the rise within the Falls, and gossip transitioned from talk of newborn foals to talk of war. He chose to head north, with the intention of eventually making it all the way up to the Aurora Basin. Back when he was fresh out of the Threshold, Ele had nearly chosen to join the Basin herd, rather than the Falls. Now, still swayed by the majestic fantasy of the borealis lights Solanine had planted in his brain, the brute treaded north. A grassy, succulent pit stop along the way was not an unwelcome idea . . . if he could find it.

Panting, the young male stopped to catch his breath. As he did so, his eyes traced the towering walls of chipped granite, and a sigh escaped his lips. The whole reason he had chosen to join the Hidden Falls herd was to become a mason. He wanted nothing more than to work and live a peaceful life tucked away in the mountains. . . however, it no longer looked as though that would be the case.

A few moments passed, but with a bored huff, Ele banished the uncomely vision of what his life might have been, and ventured on. It seemed like hours before he reached a curve in the trail that wound around a tower of rock before disappearing. An overcast had rolled as the day passed by, and now cast a pale, desaturated light over the peaks. There was a distinct chill in the air, especially at this altitude, as Orangemoon dug its talons into Helovia’s landscape in preparation for colder seasons to come.
Velvet ears flattened against the drake’s head, and he approached the turn with caution. Peaking around the bend, Ele’s jaw dropped, and a delighted gasp burst from his throat. He had made it!

Before him stretched a wide, open expanse of greenery, burnt and browned by the late summer sun, but nonetheless beautiful. Ele stepped into the open, elated. His heart sung with the breeze as it hummed by, nipping at the silver tassels of his mane and tail. As the initial thrill of the entry died down, the stallion’s eyes began to scan the clearing, and question nagged at the hairs on the base of his neck: was he alone up here?