Through the passes, into the eternal snow that slumbers and waits for the heavens to spill forth in the seasons to come; for now, it lingers beneath the glinting sun, blinding in and off itself as she jauntily trots along, not swiftly progressing through her beloved snowy halls but not strolling, either. Her boy follows in tow, learning the paths quickly and able to keep up with her most of the time, closing the distance that sometimes grows between them with spurts of clumsy galloping that sends splashes of snow up against his own and his mother’s pelts.

She hoards him to herself, her treasure; the others are not worthy of him and cannot be trusted with the preciousness of his safe keeping, and so with her always he was. Darling Rikyn, her shadow babe, handsome and vibrant the pair as they travel through the mountains and out towards the northern reaches of the peninsula that were endlessly captured in the pristine arms of winter.

”What do you think of the Frostbreath Steppe, Rikyn?” she asks now that they are looking out at all of them, peaks on top of peaks on top of peaks rising into the horizon. She had been quite stunned the first time she’d seen them, but her son reacts to everything with broad eyes and wonder and so its no wonder he does the same now. Ever since he’s figured out that he has to watch where he’s walking, he’s become much more graceful and capable of studying the world around them while they walked, only trailing behind his mother when the footing forced him to slow or fall.

He takes a slow breath in, generally quiet from her experience as he forms his reply. ”Looks a lot like home with more snow,” he says quite dryly, and she laughs, aggravated but amused with his lack of wonder when facing such an imposing subject as the Steppe. It is possible he misunderstood her question, of course, and so she presses it no further for the time and returns to pointing out various turns of events she has had here in these mountains.

Before too long, they are in the valley where she and so many others had felled the Lightning Dragon, which she reiterates with much vibrancy and flair for his sake; she even acts out certain parts for him, like when Ruka had struck his killing blow or how she and Imogen had turned a raptor into a gutted crisp in order to save Arah. It’s quite the tale and takes a good amount of time and focus, so much so that she’s still in mid-combat with the invisible dragon as the hero of the day Ruka brings home the final slice when she hears a familiar voice in the distance.

”And then he swept under his throat, angling his barbed horn up, slici…oomph.”

Her upwards leap loses all of its playful articulation and becomes instead a sudden drop to the earth, leaving her with hooves splayed and eyes staring in the direction of the Doctor and the mare she’d met a few weeks prior at the entrance to the Basin.

Rikyn laughs; it’s not often his mother is caught off guard, especially while telling elaborate stories to her children.

Clearing her throat and hoping her… display of affection for her son had been missed, she strolls towards the two with her regal crown held as if she was not just frolicking on a mountain path like a filly on a sugar rush.

”d’Artagnian, Sialia! Out working patrols in the mountain?” she asks with chipper tone, Rikyn still snickering quietly behind her as he slides in to her right side and halts in the same step as she does. He does, at least, divert his face from the other two while sneering so as not to offend them with thoughts that he is laughing at them, but it still earns him a sour look from Illynx and a quick side kick to redirect his attention towards his elders.

”’Lo,” he offers dejectedly, bowing his head ever so slightly in just enough time avoid another tap of his mother’s hoof against his shin.

Doesn’t she know that shit hurts?