The walk from the Threshold forest stretches just as long the second time as it did the first. Hé's choppy stride was made for navigating rocky steppe and frolicking at breakneck speed down impassable mountains (much to his mother's eternal dismay). It was not crafted for distance. So their journey wends on slowly. Hé hopes Bellisma doesn't mind. Hopes, too, the vast scope of the land opening up around them doesn't intimidate her as it nearly intimidated him the first time he stepped past the Threshold. Now — Bellisma probably hasn't spent the last few years of her life living under a rock. Maybe wide open spaces fail to amaze her the way they still amaze Hé. Because if the journey's just as long the second time, it leaves him just as breathless.

As they walk, Hé struggles to remember the landmarks Ashamin pointed out so many days ago. He recalls the Deep Forest to the south of their chosen route, the way Ashamin spoke of the darkness under the branches. Hé gives Belisma the same brief, tantalizing snippets about gods and past wars he was given on his first journey into Helovia's heart, though of course he leaves out some of it, forgetting or failing to understand the nuances of Ashamin's existence in this place, the fragile, fraught difference between history spoken and history lived. It's only when they reach the Thistle Meadow properly the freckled stallion's attention shifts to the nature of his companions, those he knows so little of and yet speaks so cheerfully on — for they must be good. He so desperately wants them to be good. Wants all of this to be — good.

"You will like Ashamin, I think," he's saying as they set foot into the edges of the great meadow, his hooves picking their way nimbly between flowers and over routes. "He's very kind, and he keeps as his companions two stags, which are wondrous in their own ways. This land is full of things I've never seen, actually. It's all very distracting." Pausing, Hé surveys the meadow. He wonders vaguely if he's talking too much, but he doesn't know very well how to talk less, so he puts it out of his mind. Is what he says interesting? Is it relevant? "The others are... passionate in their own ways," Hé throws over his shoulder as he surveys the meadow. "Some gentle, some reclusive, some very opinionated." And he chuckles quietly, thinking of the last meeting he witnessed. His steps slow as he peers about, searching for a familiar face, for someone to greet Bellisma and make her feel welcome. Surely at least a few of them are still in the area?