The cool stream water did wonders to refresh and relieve a dry, hoarse throat. Traveling beneath the relentless summer sun had perhaps not been the wisest decision, but in the brindle's current condition, it had been the safest. Dangers of all shapes and sizes were ever present in Helovia, be it day or night, but when darkness did descend upon the land, it seemed to have a way of drawing out the worst of them. Crowley would hold on qualms in raising a hoof against them any other given day, but with the mistress Moon's curse gripping him, doing so could only end in disaster.

Snap!

They weren't alone. Talbot's head shot up at the sound and a low growl rumbled within his throat, spaded tail straightening and growing rigid behind him as he stepped nearer his bonded. The memory of that beast in the Steppe glowed in the back of his mind, a constant reminder that the hound couldn't protect the stallion from everything that came their way, but he would damn well get himself killed before letting any harm come to him.

Crowley had risen his head at the sound and turned his back to the stream, using the bond to look through Talbot's eyes; in his mind was painted a picture of a thick of trees, lit only by the pale moonlight that graced it. While he may have loved to be a menace any other ordinary day, he was no fool and wouldn't call out for this unseen thing to show itself. In no condition to fight, let alone even walk without Talbot's assistance, it was simply a death sentence; and Crowley had no plans on dying today.

But soon, a figure as pale as the Moon herself steps out from the cover of the trees, and Talbot readied himself to dart ahead and attack, but he soon recognized the antlered foe was no foe at all; it was his bonded's lover. Crowley could hardly believe what he was seeing through the bond, but there was no denying that it was her. The ivory lady who had seemed to steal his heart so easily back when the sun had first abandoned them, the one who had plagued his thoughts ever since waking up in that forsaken cave. For a moment he could do nothing but stare in disbelief, and as Talbot settled beside him he took several tentative steps closer to the Impersonator, but was stopped at once when he spied the utter disgust wrinkling her face and the unyielding look of dubiety in her eyes.

His heart aches, and it is unbearable. He's failed her, even after promising to keep at her side after Asch and Arwen's births. He yearned to reach out, to touch her, but no longer does he deserve her.

"Arah," he spoke softly, thickly accented voice brimming with the emotion that's surely etched across his face and within his sightless, cloudy eyes by now. What could he even say to her? Words could never do him justice in trying to explain just how broken he suddenly felt, all the pieces of his heinous heart shattered and strewn across the ground. Perhaps, if he could manage to right himself in her eyes, then she could help him pick the pieces back up.

Her next words, gentle as they were, go through one ear and out the other, spoken in a language that he doesn't understand. Where he might have tossed out a smartass remark to it before, he only looks on with anguish and regret. Drawing in a deep breath, the stallion attempts to gather himself back up, but Gods was it difficult. "I'm so sorry," He chose to began, trying to focus on the angelic face that was Arah's through the bond, but Talbot seemed to be more focused on what seemed to be the mare's own companion, and resisted the urge to kick him for his sudden inattentiveness.

Shoving the image from his mind, he decided instead to focus only on the Impersonator's voice alone. Swallowing, he went on. "There was something in that cave, Arah, that knocked Talbot and I from consciousness. I... I don't know what it was." Even if he did, it wouldn't matter nor amend any of the wrongs he had committed, so he honestly wasn't sure why he'd said it at all. Mentally he cursed himself, wishing now more than ever he could look Arah in the eye and somehow try to explain to her what had happened and how ready he was to make it all right again. But... could he? What all had Rhiannon, Arah and their twins, endured during his absence? That was the real question, the only one that mattered right now to the brindle. He had to know that they were all alright.

"Have you fared well?" Came gentle vocals, "And our girls, Arwen and Asch? Rhiannon? Are they well?"

"Talk talk talk"