The sun began to set again, taking most of the warmth with it as it slipped beneath the horizon in a display of fire and blood. Mauja paused where he was to look at it, the trees silhouetted against the sky. It'd been colder for a few days, no doubt because Orangemoon was approaching whether mister Sun wanted it or not, but it had had one very pleasant effect: mist blanketed the floor, swirling around his legs, little drops of water clinging to his pale fur. Once more his Edge was moist, mysterious, enchanted and secretive. Out here, near the western edge where he perched, the sun still held enough power to burn it away, but behind him it clung to the trees. A faint breeze stirred Mauja's raven feathers. It had been a strange sensation at first, the way they softly brushed across his arched neck, but now it was familiar, soothing, like the Moon herself was running her velvet muzzle across his hide.

He'd been gearing up for another Threshold venture when the view had drawn him in, and with a sigh of unfounded, confused longing he tore himself from it and began to make his way across his home. Dried grass crunched under his frosted hooves, and the snowbeast moved with an ethereal grace there in his home, only further accentuated by the mist which swirled around his graceful legs and seemed to dissolve his contours. He'd just entered the burnt part of the forest, a shadow of sorrow settling across his heart, when two foreign scents struck him. Frowning, Mauja altered his path in their direction, slipping closer. Eventually he found the two interlopers, though they were more or less at the outskirts anyway. What was surprising was their physical appearances; both were young, about the same age, and with young, he really meant young. Leggy and tall, with downy manes and short foal tails. Proud horns rose from their brows, and Mauja paused where he was, watching in silence. One was dark, nearly black, with patches of graying already visible. Hints of red sat in his mane. The other, he was pale silver, with accents of blue. How curious.

"Hello boys," he greeted from the fog's embrace, moving closer again, padding with easy grace and confidence. He towered above them both, but in two years he guessed they'd be nearly as tall as he - their long legs hinted about it. Mauja's white tail whispered against his flanks, and without thinking about it he picked his way around fallen branches. Time would wear them down, and they'd provide fertilization for what was to come. Still, it saddened him to see his home destroyed, and that it was the first thing visitors saw. "What brings you out here, to the World's Edge?" For it wasn't a place many simply happened to cross. The paths lead to nowhere, only certain death at the bottom of a long drop into the sea. Surely two so young had not come here to toss their lives away.