And he was back again, under another too-hot sun, sweat drenching his alabaster coat, darkening it to gray. Long legs carried the elegant soldier through the dry, thirsty forest, the stale air whispering dryly with a faint breeze. Only warmth fanned against him, grasses crunching under the weight of his hooves. The world was dying, and when it died, the mortals would die, too. The Moon and Earth had promised that their power would grow when the shadows lengthened and the nights grew colder - when autumn came in all its fiery glory, heralding the turning of seasons... foreshadowing the dark, cold days when snow lay glittering across the world and the sharp wind bit you, chilling you to the bone. It was easy to dream of those winter days when in the midst of summer, but duty would not do itself. Mauja leaned aside from the tree he'd been resting against, and began to pace through the forest again, back in the hot reality he so despised. A usual summer was bad enough - but an enchanted one, made by a vindictive God? He was fed up with it.

The scent of a foreigner teased his mind, and intrigued he slipped closer, passing destruction: wilted flowers, browned grasses, the aftermath of a few wildfires... the aftermath of the fire that crazy equine mare had set when he'd come traipsing in here some time ago. Mauja shook his head, continuing on. A sense of urgency had begun to tick in him: he needed to strengthen his numbers, train his warriors, and prepare for war. Either he'd lead it, a hoard of screaming unicorns, or he'd defend against it. He didn't trust Gossamer and Kri - well, perhaps he could Gossamer to be stupid enough not to go against her word and invade, but Kri..? He'd sooner sleep with a snake than trust her.

By a dried-out pond she stood, golden in hue and with darker mane and tail. A horn rose from her brow, marking her as of pure blood, pearlescent but laced with veins of brown shades. She was striking, if a bit short, with muscles evident under her sun-colored skin. Tall and regal, the FrostHeart slid out from the trees, not bothering to mask his approach in the slightest. Why should he creep on one of his own blood? "Welcome to Helovia," was his greeting, voice smooth, warm despite his glacial appearance. Curious eyes of wintery blue sought her hazel gaze, and he paused a respectful distance away, watching her with a slight tilt of his head. "I am Mauja. Who are you?" What is your story? his eyes asked, but he would take it one question at the time, not wanting to scare her off with an interrogation - yet afraid to lose her should one of another herd come by and whisk her away. So close to the surface that wish lay, that she shared in his views of the world, that she shared his passionate love for his own kind, and the desire to see them rise above all else.