It was the bitter sting of loneliness that lured her back.

There was still no trace of her brother, neither scent nor sign, and slowly the hope of finding him (which she had been clinging to so desperately), began to flake; the disappearance of the first friends she had found in Helovia too, only served to exacerbate that weight of disheartenment. The aching loss she felt was great, it showed physically through the deterioration of her condition. Ribs which had been cloaked in plush fat reserve, were nearly visible (perhaps she looked fitter rather than leaner - healthier, though not in thought), and hips jutted above the gentle slope of her croup - that which had been round and full only a month before; both were more obvious given the significant lack of wooly winter thermals.

She had wandered in and out of the threshold many times since arriving originally, when snow still lay thickly across the floor. The forest had changed enormously in that time - no longer was the earth cloaked, nor was it sodden with melt, slippery slush which stained just about anything it came to touch. The season had been warm, according to Hildegunn uncomfortably so, and wherever the needles thinned and grass did not grow, dust lifted beneath her step. Still, it was pleasant enough where the trees flanked the mountain’s foot; where shade thickened through the afternoon and wind howled down the rocky slopes. It was a little bit like home when she felt that all had been lost.

Had she made the right decision?

Evening’s dark veil was falling through the region, staining the late sky purple, and Hildegunn had completed the decent into the main body of the threshold - where the odours of hundreds tangled into something not unlike the face of a sheer wall. Into it she stepped, holding her breath at first, and then lifting her short nose; soft nostrils broad and pumping, tasting the air for any sign of those she felt fondly for. Instead, she was greeted by the same confusing mass, strangers, who had gathered through the course of the day to all weary travellers into their midst.

Through the dimness she strolled, picking half-heartedly at the sour grass - the only kind to set root between the dense, mouldy mat of needles, completely unaware of the avian-equine roosting in the boughs above. That was, until she happened upon the length of silky blonde dangling down to her level. Cautiously she paused, pointed ears turning, grappling for sound amid the dusk chorus; but she was sure there were no other’s lingering nearby, almost. It never crossed her mind that a horse, or part thereof, might be found anywhere other than the ground - even though Sean had once corrected that ignorance.

“Hallo?” she called softly, accent rich and exotic, “…er noen er?”