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The delicate, tender memory of a giant of a stallion continued to float in Bernadette's brainpan over the course of the following journey. It was a subtle thing, quite unobtrusive in its presence; it was like white noise over the turmoil of her thoughts that calmed and soothed her from the inevitable panic she would have succumbed to. Thor had left her at the fringe of the “Threshold”, as that forest was called; she would follow the his scent and the scent of the weeds, the grasses, the trees and the slight hint of saltiness that permeated his musk; Bernadette deduced that he would smell like his herd members and his members would smell of their home.
It was a good thing that her thoughts of Thor were keeping Bernadette so calm and focused; as the dainty little gray thing trotted spiritedly through the heavy forests and lush meadows, she was certainly going mad with her fear. Her eyes were wide things, voids of colorless silver that sat like saucers within her skull; she held her head too straight, too stiff, while her nostrils were flared and huge gusts of breath were drawn into her breast. Her ears were everywhere; flicking to and fro, back and again, this way and that, listening to everything detectable in a mile radius.
The problem was that leaving the Threshold didn’t completely settle the churning, bubbling pit of terror that sat at the deepest pit of her psyche. Bernadette had hoped that the further away she had traveled from—from…well, that, she would finally feel a modicum of peace and tranquility she dearly, dearly wished for. As she mulled it over, Bernadette realized that she would probably never feel at peace; the fear of that possibility only set her heart thumping even harder. She didn’t want to be a slave to that—that…thing any more, even if it was only in essence. The shadows that clung underneath the trees shouldn’t scare her this much; she shouldn’t be a slave to these passions.
Such was her deep thoughts that when a certain saltiness came over the air, Bernadette failed to notice it. She continued to move in that hard trot, keeping her buggy eyes and swiveling ears out for that giant of a stallion that had kindly offered her a home on the World’s Edge.
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