You're busy dying if you're living in the past

As he drew closer to the other, their silhouette became clearer and clearer for the brindle to see. Against the distant light, he could make out the shape of two impressive horns, which was a delight to see. What would he have done if it had been a prisoner or an intruder? Now was a time to get to the bottom of what was going on, not fly into a rampage and demand why they were here.

Whoever this fellow Basiner was, they replied with an airy laugh, declaring that hide and seek had been their favorite game. It warranted a deep chuckle from the Weaver as he stepped closer, only coming to a halt when his company made their own advance. By the sound of their voice, Crowley immediately placed the other as a female, and by the shape of her horns, a image slowly began to take form in his mind's eye. He couldn't make out the color of her pelt, of course, but everything else thus far pointed the mare towards being the Basin's Impersonator. Crowley had seen her on occasion, catching a fleeting glimpse of her in passing or at meetings, or the time he had tried to chase of two foolish intruders from their home. She had been there... Would she remember him?

She spoke again, putting his guessing to rest. This was the pale Impersonator, whom had already made quite a name for herself in the herd. She asked him of his own name, then, to which he swiftly replied. "The name is Crowley," he said, noting the strange eagerness in the mare's voice but deciding not to comment on it, "The Basin's Weaver. There's no need to be apprehensive." Whether she was or not, the brindle couldn't tell, for he could not read her body language in this darkness; only going by what the norm of others would be feeling in such a peculiar situation.

Lifting his head as Arah mentioned it, Crowley cast his gaze towards the lake which gave off an admittedly eerie light. It was unnatural, seeming to mimic the aurora borealis that often snaked through the night sky. Surely there would be others there, wondering just what was going on. Pulling his gaze from the lake and back to where he could only guess the mare was now, he gave the slightest nod of his head even though she wouldn't see it. Outstretching his neck, the brindle took a step closer to where she ought to be, searching for her with muzzle extended. It was only when he bumped his nose into what was quite possibly her elbow did he pause, slowly removing it and stepping just a little closer, hoping his warning-less touch wouldn't startle her.

"It'll get easier to see one another once we get closer," he confirmed, and then carefully he stepped forward, waiting to hear her following footsteps as they slowly made their way towards the glowing lake. "And if you fall, I will catch you," he mused, and off they went, the brindle cursing at every little pebble that dared to get underfoot.