When you are ready, I will surrender
Take me and do as you will

A crisp frostfall breeze pounds against the back of the silent wanderer, making it even more difficult for the little mare to navigate through the mists. The milky veils all around her were starting to become disorienting and, with help from the other elements, had managed to get the mustang completely and hopelessly lost. Frantically the wraith began to toss her head from side to side, charging forward and into the shrouded curtains of fog in a desperate attempt to get through them. All that Sulwyn wanted now was to see some other color -- anything but the white that hung over her head and pressed at her hooves -- but as she plowed her own path in the freshly fallen snow she could only make out an endless horizon of milky tendrils. Panic settled in comfortably on the mare's slick back, urging her into an increasingly desperate charge with its constant spurring against her ribs. Golden eyes rolled back inside her head and her nostrils flared to the size of giant saucers; her lungs pounded the ground and her hooves fought for air and--

Her mind completely fell to pieces.

Stop. Just stop. The quiet plea was barely registrable in the whirling carnage of her consciousness. The walls that she had put up around her feeble crown had burst into flames entirely due to her distress, cutting off her rational thoughts from the rest of the world. All that the spooked mare had managed to do was force herself to halt her frantic attempt at escape, and she just stood there; legs locked and splayed, head down low to the ground, eyes wide and limbs trembling with fear and shock. The silver equine couldn't even bring herself to stand in a more comfortable pose.

"Have I gone mad." The words came out as a whisper, much less a question than they were an observation. Her naves worked laboriously to take in the oxygen from the air as her mind attempted to right itself.

It didn't take long for the little mustang to realize three very obvious things:

One-- that she was lost in the fields of her own home;
Two -- that she fiercely longed for the comfort of company in her current state of unrest, and;
Three -- during her flight through the mists, she had managed to stop beside a tall, gnarled, and misshapen figure which, unbeknownst to her, was the very shrine that her devoted Queen and fiery brethren had constructed all those seasons ago.

Truth do you hear me?
Don't try to come near me
So tired I sleep through the lie