It had been much too close this time. The thought rattled and slammed its way through his mind as he grazed, rapid, snappy jerks of the head with teeth around juicy fresh grass with all the frenzy of a starved. A few feet away, curled up in a nest of flowers and dewy grass lay Fajira, healed and alive but strangely quiet, awake but silent as she watched the stars above.

Close, much too close for comfort. The dog of an enemy had nearly ended them, torn them away from each other, and Lace couldn't stand the memory of the emptiness that for a terrifying moment had invaded his mind, the terrible stillness that was the absence of his twin soul. Why had it become like this? Why had they been dragged to the doorstep of death, only saved by an old friend who just happened to be close by? Was it arrogance, laziness, fluke or the overwhelming skill of the opponent? But they had won the fight, they had driven the draft away along with his hated mutt, the wretched bitch that almost stole the White away from him.

Why, why, the questions haunted him as he grazed, silver coat gleaming faintly in the moonlight as he circled the resting dragon in his drive to quench the hunger that had ravaged him the entire winter. Slowly the muscle mass he had lost was coming back, strength returning to legs as eating and sleeping was mixed with long runs and rigorous training. Lace wasn't going to let them become this weak again, not ever. If it meant he would have to enlist the Reaper himself for training sessions he would, as long as he would be able to keep them both safe and sound.

"Don't worry" she whispered at him, gentle as a morning breeze as his emotions grew harder, sharper and more panicked. "I live, you live... Morning's coming, we will be together until Time comes for us."

He raised the head and turned to look at her, puzzled at first by the words and images she chose to send. Then realization slowly began to sink in, and with a gasp the stallion swirled around in one supple movement, turning himself towards the east just as the first stars began to pale on the horizon. The air caught in his throat, he held it in and waited, body tense as though ready to leap over the edge of the mountain. Minute by minute passed, and then, just as a unicorn heaved himself over the edge to the field the first rays of sunlight in two seasons broke forth, blindingly bright to all who had walked the night for so long.

His eyes hurt, but even though he felt the scent of another stallion come drifting along the grullo was unable to look away. Even as tears formed and began dripping down masked cheeks he remained still, as though intent on taking in every second of the moment. A soft tremor rushed through him, a ripple of the skin that set every hair on his body flowing like waves over an ocean, and the light reached downward, touched upon his skin... Slowly, painstakingly, the stallion let out the breath and closed his eyes, allowing the light to soak him through to the very core.

Was it only moisturizing liquid that watered the eyes, or did it have anything to do with the sensation of great release that bloomed within the chest? He neither knew nor cared, didn't even bother to hide his tears from the stranger or hush his dragon as she sat up and began to sing, a soft crooning hymn in an ode to the sun that filled the air. Almost at the same time he felt something settle within himself, an uncomfortable heat that suddenly grew more comfortable, easier to carry. A breath after it happened carried a cloud of steam from his nostrils, as though an excess source of warmth had been removed and fever finally stopped haunting the veins.

"Welcome back" he murmured quietly and gazed at the slowly rising disc of fire, offering a quiet prayer of gratitude and relief to the Lord that now surely must have returned, the task which he left to do completed.

Then, and only then, did he finally turn to look upon the newly arrived, amber eyes glowing in the light of dawn as they scrutinized the horned stranger. Wary, yet strangely calm, as though he didn't wish to sully this sacred moment with the pettiness of mortal quarrels.

"Good morning" he simply offered, but couldn't help but smile at his own words even as they fell off the tongue. How long had it been, indeed, since he was able to wish anyone a good morning?
"Too long" Fajira thought between warbles, and Lace could only agree.

Dim vales- and shadowy floods-
And cloudy-looking woods,
Whose forms we can't discover
For the tears that drip all over!
Huge moons there wax and wane-
Again- again- again-