Essetia & Romul

But we threw it in the flames and now we're never gonna trace it

The aimless wanderings of a girl and her wolf were all that gave light to the imminent meeting between the stranger and ‘the strange’. Essetia had been born a native to the lands she called home, but they had not always fostered the young Informant nor had they given her shelter all her life. However, her return had been unavoidable and her story just as predictable as the last (so she’d have you believe) and, as the newest resident of the Dragon’s Throat, she had come back to her beginnings in search of another not unlike herself.

Romul, true to his nature, wandered just ahead of his companion –surely scouting out scents of the past and present creatures of the Threshold- while Essetia herself meandered behind, more than content to ruminate over her current position in the Throat. She had challenged the pompous fool Bucephalus for his title as head Sleuth and she had managed to dethrone the prattling, young imp after a bit of persistence on her part, but now it felt more like a dream than any reality she’d ever experienced. In fact, nothing in her life felt as concrete as it once had since meeting the mysterious warrior with his ocean-blue eyes in the depths of the Heart Caves. He was all that the unseasoned mare could picture or yet imagine when she closed her eyes to sleep and he’d given no name and certainly nothing other than his face to remember him by… Perhaps that was why the Gentle Heart’s daughter had been so taken with him… or still remained as such.

Even ideas of her victory were now overshadowed by the questions a mere stranger had revealed despite his absence, and visiting the damned Threshold was all that Essetia could do to thwart her desires to find him again. The coming of winter had stirred an uncertainty in the girl and with herd expectations seemingly nonexistent, the informant-turned-sleuth had sought out other ways to occupy her time.

It hadn’t taken long for Essetia’s mirthful, young wolf to set upon a path that would lead them toward the company of another, but before the hound’s sensitive nose could determine ice and snow from the heat of a living body, that foreign body found them by way of invitation. Essetia was quick to answer it in kind and found that she was glad for the distraction or more so thankful that such a call had managed to find her there despite Helovia suffering from the terminal effects of a harsh and worrisome winter. Had it been summer, spring, or fall, the mare would have lurched along the wooded trail like a frolicsome child, but the years had made her wise or at least wise enough to know that an icy slick underfoot a creature of her size could mean disaster.

Though the Threshold was a large and burdensome land, it didn’t take the badger-faced mare very long to uncover the man behind the song that had lured her from her wanderings. Romul, though rarely optimistic, appeared somewhat complacent at the sight of the newcomer and instead of tilting his golden eyes back toward his companion, he was fairly pleased to practice his newfound talent for complete avoidance. Instead, he bounded through the snowdrifts, throwing up both ice and dirt alike as he disappeared through the tree line beyond. Essetia had come to greet the stranger with little more than a half amused smile, her pale, white eyes alight with mischief. “You called?” she remarked with a hint of a question that somehow managed to purse her lips as she spoke. She studied the great stallion that had wound up at the boundaries of her native land, most likely seeking refuge, and settled –albeit tensely- back onto her haunches. This wasn’t the Sleuth’s first rodeo, she’d encountered stranger creatures than that man that stood before her now, but that didn't mean much when it came to those who arrived in Helovia.