The nights had grown dreadfully long with the coming of winter. There was no crevice in which she could hide to evade the violent chill of the changing seasons and no refuge in which she could find that would allow her the comforts she sought. Essetia and Romul had known that the desert would prove bothersome throughout the year and yet vowed to remain tethered to the sands for the rest of their days. It was newfound loyalty that drove the young mare to bound herself so willing to the treacherous confines of the Throat, but also a love for those she’d come to know since.

When the sun finally peered at her from the straight line of the horizon, the mare and her wolf stirred from their restless slumber. They were growing accustomed to the cold nights and were even more practiced when it came to crafting crude, scarcely acceptable, lodgings to shield them from the winds. However, it was not because of a lack of knowledge for the art, but rather their numerous disagreements as to how those makeshift hovels were erected. Essetia preferred the idea of a sizable shanty, one large enough to house the big mare and then some, while Romul preferred a small, den-like structure in hopes of further preserving what little warmth the two shared. Needless to say, the mare refused to agree to her companion’s terms and often paid dearly for the sacrifice…

Though still groggy from the night before, Essetia was easily raised with the shining of morning’s first light. She stretched and groaned, fighting the desire to trail mindlessly through the pastel dunes of her home in search of task. She’d grown bored and lazy, stirring uselessly about from north to south, east to west… to no avail. Yet, daily, Romul gave the mare reason to think and to strive even when she felt as though there was nothing to bend her eager will. On some days she sought prey for the wolf and on others she merely studied his technique. It seemed, to her, that understanding the hunt was significant for her trade and Essetia needed all the teaching she could get if she wished to return to her former graces.

However, on such a day that Romul was not in search of meal or drink, they both roamed aimlessly along the vast borders of the sand. So it was not unusual when they journeyed toward the bridge hoping to set eyes on something or someone unfamiliar to their dry tongues.

Like big cats they stalked the wide rift between the Dragon’s Throat and the lands beyond, only stopping to deliberate once, whereupon their step grew excited and sure. The wind carried familiar notes of friendship, a scent that was too well known to them and also welcomed to heart.

When at last the pair came to face the opposite shore, they called out to Elsa as she waited for greeting from afar. The key that Ampere had given them came into good use once more as both Romul and Essetia were spirited from one shore to the next, their eyes still wide from the feel of magic and the extension of limbs that were not theirs. “All hail the Queen!” Essetia jested when her hooves were again beneath her. Auriel had been the one to inform the spy of Elsa’s promotion and no such news had ever been so well received. She smiled wide at the white Pegasus, thinking that she looked entirely different now and yet somehow the same. “What do they call you now, oh royal one?”

Essetia recalled their last meeting and knew that Elsa had left with a heavy heart, but the spy wanted nothing more than for bridges to be restored between them. The grief they’d both entertained for far too long needed remedy… it was time to forget the past. Without thought, Essetia moved forth with her lips extended toward the Queen’s shoulder. She wished to allow her a comfort of sorts, a reminder of their friendship. “Hello dear friend,” she whispered as she neared. “I’m so glad to see you well.”