At times the two worlds in which he existed would collide, and no longer stand separated from day or night. Reality and dream would clash in subtle glances; the glimmering eyes of a crow, perhaps, in the shadow of a tree. Or the steady gaze of the elk, a stone face, unflinching for a second and vanishing before he could grasp its presence. Leaving all but the unsteady branches of a pine to waver with the wind.

These faces; crow and elk, they would seem like strangers in this small and tiny world. But they were constant friends to Masanori.

They came in dreams. They came when he slept. Leading him through uncharted pines and the bare skin of deciduous trees by day. Along the sharp slopes of a mountain edge, through the snow and beyond rivers. Without a true compass to steer his voyage, he followed them instead. Illusions, spreading wings and bounding further into endless forests. Until he came to the opening of the Helovia Threshold. With a quivering neigh, he sucked the air into his nostrils. The smell of others, flesh, lingered in the air.

---

The previous night had brought snowfall. As he entered the Threshold by day, it was quiet and solemn. The ground appeared untouched, the forests covered by layers of snow. Beautiful. It appeared like any other snow fallen sanctuary. The air could be unforgiving, but today it did not pinch his lungs or sting his lips. It was cool and surrounded his body with a pleasant touch. As long as he kept moving, as long as his muscles contracted, and relaxed by the drive of his pulse, the cold was not that bad at all.

Hesitantly he entered and continued at the pace of a walk. Stopping now and then, to hang his head towards the ground, his muzzle, sniffing the floor for recent scents. He did not understand why he might try to contact anyone else, other than to avoid them and find his own path. But the dreams had reassured him. By some bizarre conviction, he was meant to be here.

Lifting his head he moved along. A whinny rumbled forth, pitched, an invitation for someone to join him.

It was not loneliness that had brought him to such a conclusion. He was not desperate for a companion, since, he thought he had one or two already. He was looking for something he did not understand or know of. Searching, for a sign that might lead him elsewhere. A sound made him stop.

The mere crack of tree limbs echoed out in the distance. Twisting his ears in its direction. The sound of heavy snow, plopping, plundering below into the frozen earth. And what he thought was the coarse ruckus of a crow, before its feathers lifted off, along to somewhere. Away from here.