Charcoal hooves padded softly among the densely growing ferns and the tall, ancient trees. Silver tresses swept over golden eyes as a gentle breeze skipped through the forest, causing the surrounding vegetation to stir. The mare's grey ears swiveled to and fro, listening to the delicate melody that the leaves made with each gust of wind. Although it was only her second time passing through this abundant haven, the fae felt as if she had traveled it for countless generations. Its aroma, its song, its emotion made her feel like she had finally found someplace to belong to, whereas before she had been running from the crumbling remains of the moors. The grulla was more than grateful that Thor had found her because of it.

And now, after leaving this very forest where she had arrived just a few days earlier, she found herself returning to it. She couldn't fathom why -- it wasn't as if she was going to leave her new family -- but she felt an almost magnetic pull telling her to return to the realm where her new life had started. Maybe she was just taking Thor's words too seriously, and she was just eager to give some other aimlessly wandering wretch a fresh start, but so far she had come up short. The sun-marked mare had not been able to meet with an unclaimed soul, let alone a herd-bound one that was returning to the Threshold much like she, and the femme felt that she had missed her window of opportunity. Maybe someone else had come by already, and lead such wanderers to their own home, leaving the petite mare with some blooming flowers and dry-crusted earth instead. Anything was looking up to be a possibility at this point in time, and Sulwyn was beginning to think about heading home.

Well, it was a nice walk nonetheless. It's not like you haven't gotten used to traveling in the past year, the grulla mare thought to herself, her gold-dashed legs pushing through a gathering of bushes and into a miniscule clearing. Casting her gaze about the meadow, the mare was delighted to find an alabaster figurine walking through the grass.

Quickly loping over to the white form, the silver femme called out with a chiming whinny, "Welcome, stranger! Might I be of some help?"
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