Ruske;;

      I had yet to reach a weight suitable for prolonged forays beyond my home, but the constant ache of curiosity drew me nonetheless out of the Edge. I had much to study there, of course, but so long as it remained my home, I felt free to do so at my leisure. Much more pressing: I knew very little of Helovia at large. The map I kept in memory was desperately blank, pitiful in its ignorance. And if I hated anything, I hated ignorance. Eager to remedy the situation, I ventured away from the near-familiarity of the forest and traveled under new trees.

      Sunlight dappled the ground as I moved; it fell in bright waves, welcoming despite the lingering chill. But I smelled spring in the air, now and again – in the buds underfoot and the nervous chattering of other animals. For the most part, I ignored them; all I wanted out of spring was green to eat. Gone were the days, for better or worse, that I turned a more curious eye on the fauna around me; I had decided, at long last, to devote my efforts to the World’s Edge, rather than my own more selfish pursuits. Narcissism had won me only bitterness, through ten long years. I had little to lose in changing tact, though perhaps common knowledge knew better than I about old dogs and new tricks.

      Gradually, the trees closed in around me. The scent of green increased, thick and wet, and with it the illusion of privacy. My ears twitched; a wariness sung in my nerves, though no sound of company broke through the hush of wood. Perhaps I had grown paranoid in my old age – but there! Hooves, moving fast, rolled over nearby earth. My ears came forward, shoulders tensed. I did not wish to flee – could not flee very far. And who saw fit to interrupt my walking, anyway?

      As the noise died down, I ventured toward it. After a moment, the small inquiry of a feminine voice met my ears – not frightened. Perhaps stretching the muscles, then? I had known warriors to do so. With a snort, I broke forward the last few steps, until my eyes picked out a shape patterned in white and brown, framed by a pool of still water just behind her. Her flanks heaved as if with exertion; I supposed she and the owner of the running hooves were one and the same. ”Are you lost?” I asked dryly, head cocked the better to study her. She was dainty, and bare of head – another equine. Perhaps they outnumbered the other kinds, here. I gave a short nod of my head. ”I am Ruske. I was taking a walk, before you interrupted.”