Fence's heart and mind had lifted during his brief time in the Foothills. The land had had a very healing effect on him, he supposed, but it was really all due to the herd. Already he had met so many kind souls, and even led more to the warm shadows of the Foothills' boughs. He had found himself feeling strangely and incredibly loyal to a herd when before he knew he never would have much cared for settling down so quickly. As he remembers parts of himself in snippets, as his name floats back to the tip of his tongue and begins again to sound as if it is his own, he feels healed. The scars of the shadows had yet to fade, leaving his body riddled with marks of a warrior's past, but still there was a bright shine in the young stallion's blue eyes that revealed his spirit.

The evening before, he had carried himself from his new home and back towards the place where he had started his new life in this land. Sharp and early breezes of an Orangemoon morning nip at his heels now, and with a smile stiffened somewhat by his scar, he takes on the challenge of the wind. He sets off at an evenly increasing pace until he is galloping at full speed through the Threshold forest. Leaves kick up at his feet as he moves, careful to avoid the more soaked patches of soil. Even running, the stallion is careful to keep himself clean.

When the trail of the stream appeared, Fence let himself circle and naturally slow. He huffed, blowing a long forelock from where it fell over his sky-colored eyes, and carried himself at an easy trot up the path of the stream. His legs, three white and one black, carried him in a proud and pleased sort of dance up the stream. These woods were not the woods of the mystic woodland or even the foothills, but they would always hold a place in his heart.

Above, sounds of strangers caught in his curved ears and he slowed his pace to draw closer discretely. Summery tones and delicate exchanges flitted through the air, enrapturing him and drawing him in to the warmth of the encounter. Two mares stood by the stream, one speaking of the Assassins, who, even in his short time, Fence had learned were little more than cheating thieves suckling off of the teat of The Grey's success, and the other of a desire for a home. He emerged from a thin veil of shadow, his stance gentlemanly and his expression jovial, and nodded kindly to the bay mare. He let his eyes wander, caught her sturdy build and the scars scattered across her that seemed to mirror his own. Surely she could not have run from the same war? No, he thought. He would have seen her among the clans of refugees, those struggling and lost in the wake of the shadows' destruction.

The trotter shook his head and focused once more on the situation before him. "I'm sorry, miss... Zuri, was it? I couldn't help but overhear that you're seeking a home," he spoke clearly, nodding to her with politeness and casting the white mare a faintly suspicious but still congenial enough glance. "The Grey can offer you a stable place to live, and a family ever at your side," Fence continued with an even smile. His body tensed and lifted as old instincts kicked in; his tangling, mussed braid fo a tail thwacked against his leg idly. "Having lost my own home, The Grey were there for me in my time of need. I owe them much, and know that they would do the same for any other." He spoke truthfully and earnestly. Though he was not one to stoop to the level of the outcast band that had been challenging the members of his home, he would not hide the truth about his own home from her.

Perhaps, having not been offered kindness in so long, The Grey had become his saviors. He had forgotten part of who he was, left behind old mannerisms and traded them instead for newer ones influenced by his surroundings and those he now called his herdmates. He shuddered in the face of a cold wind, letting the ribbons strung loosely in his half-braided mane shiver against his thickening coat. He stepped forward and lowered his head to greet the mare in a gentlemanly fashion. "I am Lev Fence, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance," he proffered simply and readily.

Even his name had come back to him now, then. If parts of who he had been were to fade, let it be, he thought with a note of finality. He was who he was now: a proud member of The Grey, loyal to his home and those in it.

[[Welcome to Helovia! :)]]