Lyanna comes as often as she can to the Threshold. It has become less and less as her duties keep her in the Edge more often than not. It’s amazing how much time she can spend simply weeding the greenhouse and the garden, or disappearing to pick some needed herbs and plant their own supply. Especially now, with their greenhouse complete, there’s been much to do. Next season should be easier since the perennials, at least, will not need to be replanted. Hopefully. They should fare fine in the greenhouse in the winter, but it has yet to be put to the test. Though she trusted her friend and Glazier’s work. Well, ex-glazier, but she tries not to think about that.

Today, with the sun hot against her back, she makes her way to the Threshold, taking off from the cliff’s edge and taking the scenic route around. It’s beautiful in the cloud, the air cooler here than on the ground. Though it’s not long before she lands again, the heat crashing back around her, sweat already beginning to darken her already dark coat. The trees of the Threshold provide some relief, at least, and she’s thankful for the shade.

She moves through the trees easily, like they are friends, and in a way, they are. She’s never found a forest she did not like, and it reminds her of Morham, of home. Soon voices catch her attention. The Threshold has been rather quiet lately when she has had time to visit, and so she takes the voices as a good sign, making her way over to join the small group that has formed. And it seems she’s the first female to join as well.

She catches enough of the conversation to hear their names and their herd lands. She’s nearly out of the trees and in enough of a clearing to be seen when another stallion tumbles into the group in something of an ungraceful landing. Though really, she’s impressed he tried to land in a forest at all. There were clearings, but still, it was tricky and a bit dangerous. But of course, Lyanna the Moon Doctor is a bit overcautious sometimes.

Finally, she clears the trees enough to actually join the group, nodding to them as she comes to a stop. “Lyanna,” she offers, “from the World’s Edge.” But then her attention settles on the draft who has yet to introduce himself, the one she assumes is new here. Green foam bubbles from her mouth and she grins in a pleasant way, hardly unkind at all, but almost excited. “Sourgrass?” she asks, thinking she recognizes it’s telltale signs. Of course, she would pick out the plant in the middle of four other stallions. No wonder Erthe laughs at her when she speaks to stallions.