He did not have to wait long before his beckon was answered, it seemed. A spectre wove through the trees, ivory and large, dappled with ebony spots and a jewel of ice adorning his brow. He looked to be a proud thing, something not to be trifled with, and although Luken did not recognize him, the young vagabond knew better than to be rude. Even though he had been born in these lands, it was no longer his home. Warm pools of chocolate assessed the stranger, taking notice of the two slumbering owls upon his back, and the painted stallion breathed in slowly.

He spoke, this spotted stag, and Luken listened with a swiveled ear. Oh, he knew very well where he stood, these lands of twisting trees and dancing mists familar as his own heartbeat, but he remained respectful and silent, eyes watching as another stallion soon joined them. This one, however, seemed to lack the poise and grace that the spotted fellow seemed to radiate, instead looking panicked and sweat-stricken. As the other horned fellow, the one with the cropped chocolate mane and creamy stripes, nodded to him, Luken respectfully did the same, dipping his pink muzzle in the stallion's direction.

He had no idea who they were, but Luken had been raised to be a gentleman, not a shrew.

"I know where I stand, Sir," Luken said honestly, his tone light and soft as to not disturb the two sleeping winged creatures, "I was born here many seasons ago. My name is Luken, son of Destrier." Here, the vagabond's soulful brown orbs lingered from the spotted fellow to the striped one, his expression humble and somewhat meek. "I seek to return to the only home that I have ever known. I... I don't know where my family is, or if they even remain here, but I have served the World's Edge with my blood and body before, and I wish to do so again. It's all I know."

Maybe that was the truth, but speaking it aloud struck Luken with a startling revelation; he was, quite frankly, a stallion with nothing.

The realization left a bitter taste on his tongue and a throbbing ache in his chest, but he let it slide away to be pondered at a later time. Now, he need to focus on these two individuals in front of him, and hopefully they would allow him back into his home. Maybe, just maybe, if they did, he could start again. Start over.

Maybe this was just what he needed.