It had been one of the longer trips she had ever made, or at least the one spanning over the largest amount of time. Yet somehow the process of returning home had not changed. Was it because she herself was no different from when she left? They say your point of view change with accumulating experience, but during this half-season of absence so little had happened that the threshold she stepped over looked neither taller nor smaller than it did now. It was the same old forest, a little less dark and decidedly less damp now that cold winds forced the mist to cling on twigs and branches, mimicking leaves and failing to become more than unstable crystals, not quite glittering in the bleak light. Scents greeted her through quivering nostrils in a long sigh, relieved and disappointed to find nothing odd or out of place - not more than usual, anyway. It had been some time since she gave up the notion to learn the name, face and history of every soul that resided within this wooden cathedral. Trying would turn her hair gray, rob her days of hours and her life of meaning - Erthë did not want to become a ghost who knew all about others and nothing of herself. Could she love without fully understanding? Was it their past she craved, or their future or was it simply their eyes upon her as she swept through the world like a hurricane?

Still. There were some who's face was more precious to her than others and others still whom she longed to be further acquainted with. As she passed by the remnants of the long ruined wall her feet automatically avoided the area closest to the ruin, sidestepping the precarious places where snow might shelter glass - if not nimbly, then at least with the kind of practiced ease even a heavy limp could turn elegant. Pale eyes took in familiar sights with a sweeping, passing glance; noting with the same casual ignorance one might spare a garbage bag by the door that no further progress had been made to secure the border, recognizing multiple tracks along the well-worn paths, registering the flecked pattern of shadow and light that caressed her own wings as they folded more comfortably along the sides.

So familiar, so comfortable - like stepping inside the door while shrugging off the coat and throwing the hat to its pin on the coat-hanger without pausing, secure in the comfortable notion that the hanger will be where it always is, that no one has moved it or cut off the pegs. It was with the same casual indifference that she noted the scents that permeated through the air. Smells of wood and bark and damp lichens, of ice and snow and that little tinge of salt and seaweed that made her breathe deeper and then relax with a content smile. Scents of horses were everywhere - on the path, in the snow, drifting through the air and if she concentrated just a bit Erthë thought she would be able to put names on their origins - Tembovu's, constant and ever-present, Elsa's more subtle yet persistent, Eva's and Alune's spicy perfume alongside the sweaty musk of the warriors and that sweet, foreign odor that emanated from the foals, nearly masked by their parents yet somehow distinct in their own right.

Without meaning to or thinking deeply about it the filly relaxed, the hobbling awkward stride smoothing out as the pacing of each stride slowed. Lowering her head she picked a path and let it carry her deep within the forest, over frozen creeks and through hidden clearings on the way towards that particular gathering of trees that sheltered the space she shared with her father. The forest on the edge of the world was indeed her home but when she closed her eyes it was the sight of the pale stallion that came to mind, the warmth of his embrace and the gentle concern in clear blue eyes. Home is where your heart is, and the center of her world was indeed her father - the closest living member of family she still had.

It had been such a long time since she last saw him now, two vagabonds as they were. Perhaps she would be the one to linger in place and wait, this time around. The thought brought a smile to her face and with a soft, quiet chuckle she turned off the path and pushed through the snow-laden vegetation towards the clearing, expecting it to be empty and awaiting her return with pristine snow glowing in the spotty afternoon sunlight and the familiar trees sighing their welcome by the nipping ocean breeze.

DANCING IN DARKNESS
to the sound of a drum