She’d wandered aimless for much of the time since returning to the Dragon’s Throat. The heat could not scourge her of the past and the endless sands could not seem to drive away the lingering sense of hopelessness. So it remained a splinter, a parasite, a bitter gnawing of the flesh that Essetia could not escape, but only sometimes forget. Too many ties had been left frayed and somehow unhinged, and where her feelings had once been vibrant and sound, they were but mere shadows of days past. Yet, as the weeks grew long and the sun brought endless opportunity, she tried once more to replace what had been lost, even if Essetia couldn’t put a name to her grievances any longer. They were illusory and burned just as hot as the Throat itself, but still, they remained just outside her reach.

Flames of wonder had spirited her away from the security and tedium of the south in search of purpose once more. How many days had she spent in equal frustration? How many nights had she been plagued by the emptiness that lingered after being upset not only from the Falls, but from herself? Her sense of being had been ripped from between her fingers, torn away from her steadfast resolve, and transformed. Was she not a different creature than she was before? The truths she evaded could hide no longer, not now, not anymore. Essetia had lied too many times to Elsa, to Ghost, as she nurtured hurt that was not her own; there was no one to blame, but she was still angry.

Where her anger stemmed, Essetia cooled the growing flames, but never did the fire die. It gave her false direction and motivated her endless vagrancy, but never fully satisfied her. Thriving on hatred was a dull and bitter life without its release.

Again, the young spy roamed the plains of Helovia, tearing through the night until the sun began to peak along the horizon. Golden light flushed across the treetops and fell between their thick trunks, coaxing Essetia’s curiosity and drawing her from her ravings toward the illustrious ideas of what lurked beyond. The Grove was a land unfamiliar to the mare and furthermore a heavy burden that remained untouched within her being. What was it that had cajoled her from her bed, enticed her from sleep, and lured her toward the dangers that awaited her away from the comforts of home?

She was sheathed in a fine layer of sweat, her hide a deep and flawless earthen brown, and there was a wild look of distrust lingering within her pale and unforgiving stare. It wasn’t often that her memories kept her so alert, so hell-bent on seeking refuge from their wily grip on her heart, but at times they mounted their silver thrones and drove her to the crest of exhaustion before leaving her to again struggle toward inner peace. As she wove between tall oaks and ancient pines, Essetia caught wind of a fragrance well-known to her and Romul alike. The wolf bristled, hesitant, but Essetia was without reservation and pursued his memory as she’d done many times over in dreams, in nightmares, and now in reality.

On a whim, perhaps rashly, the spy compelled her companion to leave her, her walls bending against his will to remain at her side. As wild and uninhibited as she felt, nervous tension built within her muscles and joints. In fact, it was now bordering the second time Essetia had seen Ulrik since the invasion and without the proper circumstances to bridge the gap between them, errant emotions, all hate and fear and wonder, forced her to desire their expulsion. If at last she could purge him from her thoughts, then perhaps she could move on forever…

With as much caution and grace as a heated bull, Essetia searched for the answers that would finally free her. Everything would come forth and she would reclaim what she’d lost when he’d robbed her of her dignity, of herself. Yet, when a tall figure loomed between the trees, his darkness besting even the privacy of the Grove, Essetia faltered. He stood a frightening beast even then as she watched him from beyond, but there was something else about him, something she couldn’t quite describe. It was a marginal difference though and one she didn’t quite recognize from her wayward daydreams… but she clung to it with vengeance.

Essetia didn’t wait for his notice nor did she care if he spooked, though such a reaction would probably be denied, and she approached with words of confusion and doubt hanging from her lips. “It must be so easy for you,” she lashed, “-to move on after all that’s happened.”

“Some of us haven’t been as lucky.”