I am in no rush to reach the Dragon's Throat so I take the long way getting there. From the Threshold I fly over the Hidden Falls. Murtagh had been from there. A smile graces my features at the thought of the boy. He has certainly wormed his way into my heart and left me feeling fondness for him. Murtagh is what I wish that I could have been as a foal. A crease forms on my brow at thoughts of the other foal that had been there in the Threshold. He was a foal much like how I had been. The only difference being that he has his mother and they apparently have a close bond. But for both of us the joy of foal-hood was, and is, marred by a disability. If everyone had the same time as a foal that Murtagh seemed to more happy souls would exist in the bodies of adults.

I think about the foals most of the way to the World's Edge where I plan on stopping to visit. At the border I debate about what to shout out. Evangeline? No. That is not how I wish to address the mare who had acted as my adoptive mother. I want to cling to the idea of having a mother. But shouting out 'Mother' does not seem right either. I realize I am putting too much thought into this and I call to her in the same way that I always have. In the same way that I always will. "Momma Eva!" Morning mists sit heavily in the Edge leaving me to wonder if my voice will even be able to find anyone. I raise my wings and spread them to their full span before allowing my magic to come to life. I hope that my flames will act as a beacon if my voice doesn't reach anyone.

Tilney was a part of the Edge. He had wanted me to follow him here. I fold my wings back down once I cannot bear the burn of my flames any longer. I met quite a few new faces while in the Threshold. I daydream about what my life could have been like had I followed any of those new faces to their homes rather than returning to the Dragon's Throat.

"Momma Eva?" I call out once more, after some time has passed, this time shouting a little softer. I am losing my nerve. I have not seen the mare in some time. What does she think of me now? Unable to see if anyone is approaching through the mist I turn my eyes to the sky. The sun is still low and a single star still rests there. It is a stubborn ghost from the night that does not know when to move on. As I watch it slowly fade from sight; chased away by the sun, I wonder if I am all that different. Like its god, the sun seems to have a thing for telling others where to be. Just as that stubborn star seemed to I resent the God of the Sun for telling me where to live. The only thing separating that star and I is that the star had the courage to attempt a resistance. I am only a visiting ghost to the places I would rather be.


Notes: Faeanne is stopping by to possibly visit with @Evangeline but anyone is welcome to drop in! Ali if you aren't ready for a thread then don't feel any pressure to post yet Faeanne could always try visiting again.