The soft, silken tendrils of impressively fluffy tails swirly gently against lithe limbs, filling her body with a strange sensation of her skin tingling. While the feeling was not unpleasant, it was unfamiliar to the mare, similar yet vastly different from long grasses stroking her as she glided through fields in the world above. A smile, shy and gentle, forms on her elegant face, warmth radiating from her pallid velveteen lips.

Her mind temporarily disconnected from the stallion before her. His figure casts long shadows in the flickering light of the fire outside the crystalline walls, as does her own, now intermingled with the vixens'. Inori and Riona, he names them, Zyanya taking delight in their names as well as their gentle touches. The foxes were happy creatures, filled with the effervescent energy similar to a child's. The thought brings a joy tinged with sadness, one that she vaguely recognized as mourning for her lost sister.

Like a shadow, the ghost of her sister swirls in the back of her mind, dancing about for a moment until Sacre's warm baritone brings her back to the present.

There was a kindness in his voice, a sweet, guiding tune. Unlike the strange, conflicted stallion named Thranduil, there emanated a bright light from the eyes of her new found tour guide. The softness of her masculine voice lulled a strange calm into her soul, even as her told her with a steady look in his impossibly blue eyes about horrors she had no idea about. For a brief moment, the mare makes no outward reaction, not able to process the words spilling, unguarded, from his maw. Then, a cold chill bristles along her spine, winding its way up her neck and across her small, porcelain face, contorting the smile into a silent fear. "Wraiths?"

Zyanya recognized the word, yet the images brought into her mind caused a shiver to shake her body from her tiny hooves. A plague falling upon a land this massive causing the inhabitants to huddle underground, safe in the embrace of the fires in the heart. Flabbergasted, the shock radiated from the singular word that shoked through her lips, making the rest of his words process slowly. As if her mind were waking from a terrible nightmare, the girl shakes her head, glossy tendrils of her mane gleaming in the dancing, orange light.

"Uh," her mouth cooed before her mind could catch up, wanting to answer his questions swiftly. "Yes, that would be delightful." Her eyes glance toward the spanning tunnels of black, illuminated by dull light. Her legs turn gracefully and carry her behind Sacre, listening to the warm cadence of his voice echoing from the walls of the caves, letting the reverberations soothe the strange panic his nonchalant mention of monsters had wreaked.

Her lilac eyes hungrily scour the walls of the caverns, seeing odd displays decorating the walls in the room they were headed toward. The question he posed this time did not catch her off guard, but instead filled her tiny face with a wondrous light, her eyes glazed in memory as she thought back to the brilliant lights in the north sky. "It is a magical place," Zyanya's voice light and airy, distant yet warm. Nothing else could quite describe the feeling living among those of the Aurora Basin gave her heart, except magical. She gave no hints to Sacre about his unformed questions, did not delve further into her feelings of her home.
""

We've made a fool out of love, when all we want is to be enough
when all we want is to feel enough