It surprised him when the milk-white mare slipped up next to him, where she would see less of the mirror, than on the other side of Chernobyl, who had flitted closer to him to make room. Subtly he shifted, leaning closer to the dark mare, creating the illusion of space for Arah, as she named herself, without shuffling his frosted hooves. One blue eye rested upon the dark mare and her passive face, the other upon the antlered female; she seemed focused on the mirror, at least for now, narrowing her eyes at it before slowly drifting back a step. So, he was not the only one to see nothing, not even himself within it; it lay there, tantalizing, mystical, alone, showing nothing and no one. Taunting. A humorless smile flowed across his face at Chernobyl's words, and on impulse he reached out, forward — he had come out of it once, so surely it would not repel a simple touch? His breath fogged against the glassy surface, a murmur slipping from his dark lips: "At least it has healed for him", referring, of course, to the giant crack from which the Frostheart had returned and how Myrddin had playfully berated him for it.

It was cold underneath his plush muzzle, smooth, unyielding, no rough edges to snag against the velvet texture of his nose. There was no scar, nothing to show that it had ever been active, no physical memory to remember Mauja's return by, and with a sweeping gesture of his pale head he traced where the crack had been. Not even this close did it reflect his face, not even his breath; it lay upon its surface, condensed, but without a mirror image. With a flick of his tail, he silently agreed with Chernobyl, choking the disappointment and trying to resign himself to the fate of not knowing where he had been, or why. Had Vy been real? Had she gone to Earth, and received answers?

Maybe he should follow his own advice and do the same.

Snorting, the white stallion backed up, freeing himself from between the two mares. "You're right," he said in a mellow voice, flicking his tail again. It stirred the air against his hocks, and he shifted sideways, looking at them only with his left eye. "It doesn't do to dwell on dreams and the past." Though he had not entirely convinced himself of it, for he brooded way too much for his own good, but if he never tried to get over it, he'd never get over it, right? Giving his head a miniscule shake and the mares a slight smile he turned fully, and passed from the shadow into the light beyond, and with sunlight flashing upon her blue barring Irma came down to settle upon his scarred withers, neatly folding her wings and gripping his skin with sharp talons.