She walked to the Deep Forest, because after all there were some very nice trees here and she wanted to visit it and make sure it was ok even though the sun was angry. At least she thought the sun was angry; that was what the plants told her, and it was very hot so it made sense in her mind that that would be the case. She felt only wonder at the idea of the angry sun, because she could never be mad at the sun, since the sun was very pretty and kept her warm and grew her plants. But the sun was angry, and she wanted to make sure the plants were ok, and...

She paused in her wanderings and looked around, suddenly lost. Panic entered her fuzzy brain, terror and confusion playing ring-around-the-rosey like demonic children in her simple cranium. She stared to her left, to her right; where was she? Where had she been going? She could not remember, did not know why she was here and not somewhere safe, by her river in the Foothills where her plants grew and her new friends were. Frightened eyes were raised to the heavens in a frantic plea, creeper vines wringing themselves helplessly against their ashen backdrop. Tail slashed the air, thoughts whirling slowly through a mind of oil. The creak of a branch, the growl of wind; it was enough, and she ran.

She ran and ran with awkward grace, small body galloping against the wind and towards some place she had not initially anticipated, first across meadow and then beneath trees. Deeper into the Threshold she ran, and the shadow of the great pines hid her from the angry glares of the sun, until abruptly she reigned herself into a sudden halt and stared around her. This place looked familiar, smelled familiar. Thoughts penetrated her mind like musky sunbeams in a dark tomb, curiosity and recognition now quelling the earlier panic. With interest she raised her tiara, dark locks obscuring her vision but comfortable smells penetrating frenzied senses. The movement of sienna behind mahogany wood caught her attention; she turned round abruptly, staring with crimson shot eyes at the retreating tail of an earthen unicorn. Attention piqued, suddenly curious. The trees were humming, pleased at this earth horse. But a moment later the tail was gone, and she let out a soft whinny in surprise, and darted off after it.

Now it was a game of cat and mouse, with the dowdy grey mare admiring the beauty of the other, vines curious and seeking, trying not to interrupt with her own graceless presence. She thought that perhaps this was a magic being, a fairy or wood nymph that the forests loved, because it really was beautiful, the nymph. She was transfixed, mystified, following the other with blind admiration and thrilled to be allowed in the presence of one so graceful. Flowers grew on her hide, climbing roses that spoke of her fixation with the brown mare. In her mind, she was as fluid and graceful as her newfound goddess, following as a mirrored follower rather than an awkward stalker.