Mauja did not mind the lessening heat at all - in fact, he welcomed it, waking early each dawn to breathe in the moist coolness of night, drawing that peculiar scent of oncoming autumn deep into his lungs and feeling the chill settle in his veins. He was a creature of frost and snow, ice and bitter winds, and he relished knowing that it would come, hoping that Earth and Moon would take their revenge on Sun by covering the land in a thick, soft blanket of snow. Mauja wanted blizzards and ice rains, wanted to feel the wind cut to the bone and watch as everything turned white and soft, even the Sun's precious Throat. When the leaves were a little more yellow each morning, and the fog a little thicker, a little cooler, he could hardly contain the desire, the longing, and often found himself hopping through the Edge forest with a semi-crazed, absent-minded, deranged yet harmless little smile upon his face. Winter was coming, and he was like a little child waiting for the first snows. Likely he'd be doing equine cartwheels out of joy when it finally came.

It was a wonder his herd hadn't decided that he was a lunatic, but that would surely come soon. He snorted to himself, amused, and tried to keep from prancing through the Threshold, but it was hard to keep the winter spirit in - after such a long, horrible summer, two wildfires in the Edge, sun bitches, sweating an ocean, having his daughter kidnapped, and suffering from the effects of a constant drought... Well, let's just say it was very hard for Mauja not to be happy now that all those trials were past. He'd been sorely tested, nearly driven himself out of his mind, but finally he could breathe out, and watch his breath turn to fog in the moist morning air.. when it was a moist morning, that is. Which it wasn't now. But Mauja's mind was lost in a haze of daydream and longing, and the result was that he nearly walked into a tree. Blinking, the monarch stopped, scowled at the bark, sidestepped, and kept going, but slightly more aware of his surroundings this time.

What he found was most interesting. Little Ophelia he knew, with her slender white body, pale like snow, and her blood-red fringes. She was just greeting a very lissome stranger, and his eyes traced her appearance. Silvery blue roan, thin, short coat, white legs, blue eyes, and a black horn rising from her brow. Satisfied, Mauja slapped his tail against his hocks, and gave Ophelia a nod in greeting. They'd managed to patch most of their broken relationship up, going from "near death experiences when around one another" to "friendly acquaintances". Quite the improvement, if you asked the King. Likely a boring turn of events, if you asked Deimos.

"Welcome indeed. I am Mauja. Who are you, sister?" His smooth voice tagged along at the end of Ophelia's statement, not bothering to repeat the question of where she came from. It would just be redundant, and if she did not answer Phi, well, why on earth should she answer the second time? Smiling slightly he cocked his hips, leaning a hind hoof on its tip, and waited, curiosity shining in his eyes.