Even though Orangemoon was mild in the Hidden Falls, Apollo couldn't help but be swayed into wonderment and awe by the vibrant display of the trees shedding their leaves. It was almost sad, watching the beautiful greens change into yellows, oranges, and reds, and even though it was a marvelous sight, a part of him was sad. The trees were preparing for their winter slumber, but the Merciful stag knew that he would see them again come Birdsong.

"Goodnight, my friends," Apollo murmured to the trees that he passed by and stepped beneath their colorful limbs, jeweled crown dipping low to avoid catching any low branches, "Rest well."

His heart was light. Content. Rested. Restored. For the time being Apollo felt at peace, enjoying the solitary life that he and Zola had pursued after learning of the death of Midas. It had been a hard blow, that bit of information, and for a long time the painted stallion had suffered with crippling depression and long nights of questions and tears. He had remained in the Hidden Falls, however, choosing to stay and linger in the background until his heart had mended and healed before allowing himself to meet with others.

Zola had been his constant companion, his precious, steadfast rock to rely on during those cold, bleak nights where nothing no longer made sense. He could have sought out Lakota, or Ktulu, or maybe even Archibald... But they wouldn't have understood. There was hostility towards the late Gallant that he couldn't understand, and likewise, they did not understand the kinship he had felt with the former Czar. Things had been a mess, a terrible, terrible mess... But there had been nothing that he could do save recover. And so, that's what he had done, alone, save Zola.

The said black feline lay stretched out across the overo's back, back paws over one side and front paws over the other, the tip of her tail twitching back and forth. She was awake, peering around through sightless eyes, smelling the changes of the season and seeing through Apollo's own oculars. It was the gift of their bond, to allow her to see through Apollo's own vision.

'Orangemoon is pretty, Apollo.'

A smile quirked the Merciful's lips, and he nodded, nostrils flaring to take in the scent of the changing season. "It is, Zola. Very." Every step was taken mindfully, as the last thing that he wanted to do was jostle the blind feline and make her lose her balance. If only he could find some way to make a pouch for her to rest in during their travels...

Coming out of a collection of trees, Apollo's warm chocolate eyes spotted something rather peculiar. Was that a youngster? Playing in a pile of leaves? For a few moments the stallion watched the familiar-colored youngling gather a myriad of different colored leaves, pushing and shaping them into a rather impressive pile. Feeling a soft smile spread upon his dark lips, the black and white overo ventured closer, eyes kind, posture relaxed. Zola, as well, perked up from her position upon the stallion's barrel, straightening up and sitting upon his spine with a curious tilt to her head.

"What have you got there, little brother?" He asked softly, his vocals melodic and wistful. Well, that was definitely a way to use the leaves shed by his dearest friends. "That's quite an impressive pile of leaves you have gathered."

@Murtagh