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Time had passed slowly since Kipling’s arrival at the Hidden Falls. While his mind teemed with brilliant adventures and extraordinary feats of heroism with which to impress his new herd, his body stubbornly refused to cooperate. Although he was eager to explore his home and beyond, he often found himself unusually tired and listless. He would prepare himself each morning for some newly conceived excursion, but by mid-day, all he could think about was finding some sheltered place to doze off for a few hours.

It was all the hangover from his treacherous journey to Helovia during the harsh Frostfall months. Young Kipling had not understood the toll that solitary travel would take on his body. While he travelled, from day to day he had not noticed any remarkable changes. Now, in hindsight, with ample time to properly assess his condition, he was struck by the sunken depressions that once stored muscle and the dullness of his coat that used to shine like a copper coin. Even his metallic, spiralled horn felt strangely brittle. Grudgingly, he quelled his wanderlust and allowed himself to rest and regain strength, never traveling much beyond the safety of the meadow.

As Kipling impatiently shuffled pine needles to prepare his afternoon bed, his drowsiness was interrupted by a booming call. His head snapped upright and his ears pricked forward alertly. Brethren of the Falls? Wait… That’s me! With his thoughts still slow from near-sleep, he could not fathom the faintest idea of what the voice wanted. Nonetheless, it resounded with an authority that could not be ignored, and it promised a welcome break from the mundane routine he had succumbed to. His heart pounded with anticipation as he spurred himself into an unwilling canter; the gait had grown awkward with its recent disuse, but he was pleasantly surprised by how quickly he could cover ground once he was moving. Soon, the gathered souls at the rock came into sight.

He stumbled to a stop awkwardly, trying to disguise his heavy breathing with an oversized smile. Between his physical tiredness and the unplanned exertion, his mind could not be bothered to process the various faces around him. Instead, he announced breathlessly, “I’m a brethren… Yes… Hello, brethren.” As an afterthought, he wheezed, “I’m Kipling.”