Why did I always seem to be drawn closer and closer to the forests. They had never truly been a safe haven for me. No. They had always meant danger, meant death. In my old lands the forests had been near completely run by my enemy. That had to mean that it was not safe. But, instead it was something that I had accepted. And, not long ago, I had been travelling into the deep, deep forests here, believing that perhaps it might have been something different, only to have it proved that forests did not, in general, bode well for my poor, tiny frame.

Yet, I was in the forest again... Call me insane. I don't care. Being blind had it's effects, and I must admit that I was still immensely curious about the rapid heartbeats of a wall that were trailing around these lands. Had I been the only one to feel the pull and yank of everything that had made me... well me the second that I crossed the border? Or, had I simply been imagining this wall? The later seemed more likely, but I still felt this insatiable desire to cling closer and closer toward it to try and understand just where it was coming from.

Legs pushed forward. Muscles flexing. Each flick of my flints snagging onto the tips of the ground just long enough to call the endless waves of vibrations through my nerves to form a precious image in my brain. Duck a little to the left, swing a little to the right. Veer to the east, glide to the west. I didn't know it, but the hawk marking upon my left haunch was glowing vibrantly as I crossed under the shadowy areas that the canopies seemed to provide. But, it was the grasping tendrils of warmth from the sun that comforted me the most as I made my way in closer to the feeling of the rapid heartbeats.

Unfortunately for my me, my personal mission was cut short as I felt another frame trudge through the forest ever so slowly until he stopped. I could feel the soft rolling of the water as well as the accompanying trickling notes and I edged my frame in closer and closer only to feel the stealthy vibrations of another stag nearby. It is this second stag's voice that reaches my ears before I have even stumbled from the shadowed areas (now lit from my bright hawk marking). He calls out to the stag who he has stumbled across - or perhaps chosen to follow for a specific reasoning, I cannot say for I do not read his mind - and offers a welcoming to these lands.

Plastering a smile upon my face, as this is not something I had intended upon running into in my trek down here, I pulled myself out into the sunshine. I relished the feeling of the tendrils as they caressed my hide and warmed my abused soul. A short breath out and a flick of my audits forward and words began to spill from my maw in velveteen, soprano chords. "Gentlemen..." I say, dipping my cranium at both of the stags and then allowing my muscles in my shoulders to relax, to portray an image of ease. Though, do not get me wrong, if any wrong move was made I would be one of the first to attack them. Only one had an advantage (at least off the bat, the other equine might have some magical ability I had not anticipated) and that would be his gift of flight. Flight - the gift that the rest of my herd members also seemed to have been blessed with. Perhaps this would be an opportunity to grasp a new member, if he so desired a home with others of his kind. After all, the winged one smelled of lands I did not recognize, but the other equine smelled of the Helovian wilds - the lands I was uncertain I could enjoy anymore (especially if most of the rest of it was of the forested variety). "I am Rasta, an informant for the Dragon's Throat. May I be of assistance to either of you?" I offer, chords clinking together in sweet melodies as I delicately tilt my cranium to the side, blind eyes sliding between the two figures but never being able to focus upon either of them, only glance into the distance that was the general vicinity of their frames.

Perhaps today would be fruitful. Perhaps today would only lead toward more misery at the hands of a forested beast...