She knows. It is impossible to say how. Perhaps the scent of the dragonmare was stolen by a playful breeze; perhaps the golden magic of the hybrid bloomed so bright it caught the corners of her cousin's eyes, drawing her closer in trepidatious hope. Maybe the dragon king's cry found its way into her ears, wormed in further and faster than the girl could anticipate, lodged in her brain and compelled her to stand, to move, to walk, to run to the border, something not fully recognized blooming bright in her chest.

Regardless- she knows. There is something at the border, something important, something critical she needs to attend. There is a call in her soul that cannot be ignored, and as the girl and her brother dance through the trees they feel not fear but eagerness, not anxiety but anticipation. They are not far from the gate when they start; it is a matter of minutes before they reach the rim of the herdland and begin the arc toward the iron gate, sharp spikes shimmering in the misty light. The closer they get, the brighter they glow, Fire Dancer glittering with anticipatory embers, kitsune lashing whips of fire from his tail. By the time they reach the gate they are breathless-

-but it doesn't matter, because she is here.

The girl pulls short, dark hooves skidding on the dry summer grass, a copper figure mirroring gold, her body frozen and a border of spines separating them, the distance so small but stretching forever. Onyx eyes soak her in, wide and hungry and seeking every line, every crevice, every sign of any change. How long has it been? A century? Two? Eons- and yet no time at all, because the figure that stands before her is the same, and the love and loss and hope and desire she feels is the same, and the quivering voice is the same one she has used for years, childish and questioning, curious and deep-

"Amaris?" she whispers, deep voice quivering between hope and heartbreak, a war that rages heavy in her heart.

Hope wins.

She bounds forward, the kitsune not a moment behind, and shoves herself into the dragonmare, long neck reaching for a warm embrace, sharp tears stinging merrily in her eyes. Fire Dancer laughs into her cousin's withers; perhaps it is something about them meeting here, but she is a child again, a girl in the woods with her favorite playmate, ready to partake in adventure, to share stories and experience. "We missed you," she breathes; "Where have you been? Did you see everyone? I missed you- and Dramyth," she adds, grinning widely at the golden dragon. "He's gotten so big!"

Natraj, unwilling to be left out, struggles desperately to climb up his sister's braids and cross the bridge to Amaris' back. For once the girl complies with his antics, pulling away to stand alongside the scaled mare, making an easy bridge for her brother to cross. For her part, the copper child is happy merely to stand against her cousin's side, feel the familiar warmth and relish this moment of happiness, before anything else sinks in. To be here, in the Edge, alongside her earliest playmate, her dearset kin... it feels right in a way she hasn't felt before, and she basks in it, bathes in it, lets it sink into her troubled soul and fill her tumultuous being with peace.