How long has it been since I have seen the moon adorning the skies? How many days? How many nights? How many weeks, months? Surely it has not yet been years. No, it cannot be. I may have lost track of time, but it has not been that long. I have grown accustomed to the darkness now, used to finding my way in the dark. What will happen when the sun returns, I wonder? Will we all go blind? Will we run for cover, burning in its heat and glory? Or will things simply return to the way they used to be? How can they, when so much has happened? Despite the questions, it is without a heavy heart that I walk through the forest, for I am at peace with the world. I have found my place, and that is satisfactory for now, though I know there is much to do before we are truly safe. And today (tonight?) I walk in the shadow of the Deep Forest, a place that I have longed to visit since I learned of it.

There is much to see in the forest, you see, much to hear; I have always enjoyed woodlands, and I presume that this one will be no different. My hoofbeats drum a simple, four-part beat against my retinas, painted in a medium shade of brown. This particular colour is perhaps the most familiar, for it accompanies me everywhere I go. For every step I take, bronze blooms in my vision, and so in a way it is my constant companion. The forest brings its own array of sounds and their resulting colours: a rather out-of-season bird calls, and a vibrant orange blossoms, winding its way around the browns; a wind rustles the branches overhead, calling a brilliant emerald to play. To one side, a brook bubbles gently, and an aquamarine flitters across and around and in between the others, a great cacophony of hues and shades that is at once chaotic and serene.

I follow the stream, reveling in the beauty of such landscape, though I care less for the sights and more for the sounds. It empties into a pool, oddly still despite the rushing water. Ripples dissipate into nothingness, and on the far side stands a young stallion, alone. I am more than capable of defending myself, and so it is without hesitation that I round the bend of the pool to stand nearby, though I am not so mad as to immerse myself in water during Frostfall. "It seems to me that it might be a bit chilly for a swim, dear," I offer, the advice said solemnly, but amusement in my expression. In all honesty, I couldn't care less either way, but if I can use him, or, better yet, bring him home, it would be all the better a walk.

"Talk talk talk."