She could not afford to sit still and let the sun fall from the sky as she sat by to contemplate how life would be if she were only whole, if she could only connect the puzzle, if the world didn't swallow her first to pull the waves over her head, to drown beneath dysfunctionality, to forever let those things keep what they took; what would she be once she was put back together, when she found them, the stitching to mend the torn seams of her mind, would she be like them who could give their heart to others in a fashion she didn't understand?

...

Something like unease traced its fingers across the delicate features of the mare she didn't know. While Maat was dusty floorboards that creaked underfoot, she was the flashlight that tried to bleed out the dark. Though unnerved as the grulla stood, a moment passed that allowed her attention to flick back to the then, to the two of them and a dragon. Every bone told her to run but she knew better when she couldn't know where to go. The search had to start anew and perhaps another for company could help spot those wretched ghouls. Anything to find them--she had to.
A brave soul did not reside in the skeleton of Maat, but perhaps it was a relative thing; she would not view it as searching for something that frightened her, rather for answers and to know the truth of herself. What the other wanted was to forget it all completely, to leave the pain burning at the stake. That was not a matter of gallantry, but a desire to begin again. If Maat could retrace the path left in hoofprints of the past she would have stayed in the safety of Reykjavik and let the boy be her guide. She was haunted by those she chased, however, and she never felt the connection that would have convinced her to stay. Ever reminded that she was a mere part and not the entire piece; a coward she could be called too for she ran when things didn't make sense.

Steel gaze resting lightly on the girl, the slight movement in response to Maat's own words did not slip by. Time lost to them had done something to her that the loveless wasn't sure she wanted to know. She let it dissipate with the other's letters after they knocked against the air, frustration almost climbing its way into her structure. The creatures got away but she would find them just as she had throughout her childhood.
The mare's inquiry was like a sting that buried deep into her skin, a burn that remained long after the flames died, an itch that arose from sleep. She didn't know. The thing taken from her, whatever she didn't have, there wasn't a name to put to it. "I lost nothing. They stole it from me." Brow furrowed, strained concentration laced itself within the details of her face but she only resurfaced with dust. "I know finding them is the only way to make it right." Whatever "it" was, she didn't offer any elaboration.

Maat could recognize that kindness was being given to her, yet the reasoning she didn't know. "If you could guide me, I would be humbly grateful. Where they went I don't know, but we can start at whatever place you are hiding from." A wink would have been sent to the mare's direction if Maat had some sense of humor. For if she was avoiding somewhere, the ghosts could be drawing them back to it. "Maat, by the way," when she finally remembered how to make a formal introduction. When her head wasn't caught above the treelines she knew how to be proper. She waited for the other to make the first move, unsure of which way she would be led. As a passing thought, "He is a very nice dragon."

What if searching for the creatures alone would prove more profitable, what if letting the other lead was a mistake, what if she would swell up with the urge to leave all she was coming to know behind just as she had each time before, and the world would swallow her whole to bring her to a fresh place even though she had just arrived to one, would those things make her abandon another land where she was finding a corner to settle into, another equine who would take her in to keep her mind from shredding its edges as the stallion had done? But no, she could not move away from one who also suffered tragedies that showed different symptoms, she would not allow solitude to hold its claim over her again, not when another would put her before herself, not when she wasn't bathed in the moon's glow but graced with the sun's touch this time, when she might have had a chance this time, maybe this would be her time.

...

Understanding of Kahlua's troubles would never be something for Maat to come by, never an idea she would be able to grasp. The entire concept of love seemed to have been wiped from her existence, the simple vocabulary a word she didn't know. Yet it could not be something taught, for her parents loved her well enough and perhaps even that stallion did too but it was all wasted on her. She could not return the favor and experienced proved it was not possible to instill in her.
That was why she hunted those ghosts however, for she could feel the immobile hand on her clock while the remaining two ticked on. She felt rooted even though she was never still. The bewilderment upon the other was clear when she spoke her sentiment, but she couldn't explain herself any further--she knew she couldn't lose anything she didn't own from the start. She was helpless to give the mare any sense of relief.

A slight nod in acceptance displaced the bald face; it was dawning on her that things with this paint were more complicated than they originally appeared. She knew not of even to whom she spoke, wasn't aware that she was in the presence of a leading figure. Yet their simple interactions told her the girl was no different from the rest and it snuffed out Maat's sense of desperation long enough to almost make her forget her purpose. "That sounds like an acceptable compromise, I am indebted to your kindness," and perhaps the faintest trace of a smile drew her lips upward.
With names to memorize now, she had something to preoccupy her quivering attention while waiting for the ghosts to make themselves seen one more. Kahlua's land seemed almost ironic to her--the place she would make a nest in--as on edge was the only thing she knew how to be. But if things really were different this time, maybe that would change too. It was with ambling limbs that Maat followed alongside, tranquil for once in her world of chaos. She wasn't sure if mindless chatter was what the paint preferred, or to listen to the lyrics nature spoke to them. She thought of taking a chance, though, if only to figure out the ways of the one who found her. "Your troubles can't be run from. They are faster and only wear upon your heart," though it was soft spoken, not chiding, as if she were talking about her own experiences.