The hot summer air cloyed in his paper-thin nostrils and threatened to strangle him, but still he advanced, no matter how sore his hooves were, or how much his muscles ached. Every so often, he would stumble gracelessly over a pot-hole left by burrowing creatures or rain, or nearly impale himself on a fallen branch. Besides a few scrapes and bruises however, his skin was as intact and clean as you would expect a dusty traveller to be.
What did he seek? Howl had asked himself that question many times before; perhaps the better question was 'What did he run from?' He knew this answer definitively, but would rather die than to vocalize it; to say so would spell a certain death for him, and he valued his pelt as much as the next woodland creature.

He wondered when he would grow weary of this endless march forwards; not weary in the physical sense, so much as the mental. At first, after recovering from the trauma of losing his home and his entire life, Howl had felt the pull of the vagabond's life entice him onto this endless road. He would roam everywhere and nowhere, and meet interesting creatures and see extraordinary things, but now he felt terribly homesick for the first time in weeks, and was beginning to feel cracks beginning to form in the veneer of his adventuring spirit. For most of his life he had lived a sheltered existence, alongside extended family and close friends. If he were ever lonely, there would always be a cousin or friend to play with him, and if he were ever sad, there was always his mother to console him. Now he felt lonely, sad, hungry, and jaded, and there was no one other than the occasional squirrel or bird to cheer him up, and even their efforts were largely ineffective.

Although it was difficult to ascertain the time of day from beneath the thick canopy, Howl felt a sluggishness overcome him which caused his eyelids to droop and his mind to fog. The forest was quiet, so he paused his travels despite the terrible heat and vicious insects. Perhaps he would meet another of his kind today, although he highly doubted it. Loneliness had pervaded his life since he had encountered (and fled from) the Many-Faced Witch, and he was half-thankful for it, no matter how much his heart ached.

It did not take very long for this strange land to take notice of its newest occupant.

Within the span of a heartbeat, Howl heard the approaching rhythm of strange hooves. Before the newcomer could come any closer, he quickly rubbed his horn against his knee, hoping to remove the layer of grit which had accumulated during the last vagrant weeks. At home, there were many hot springs and cold springs and salt baths to ensure one's cleanliness, but lately, the grey stallion had been slacking a little in the hygiene department. When he glanced up, he was startled to be staring into eyes very much like his own. The little mare that bore them was covered in the darkest coat he had ever seen, and she bore strange horns on her face and down her back, all the same shimmering golden colour. Howl bent his head a little in order to better regard her; although she was certainly more different than any unicorn he had ever seen, he felt comforted in the fact that they shared the same eyes. "Hello," he replied, astonished to discover they (apparently) spoke the same tongue. She drew even closer, and gave a flexible bow. The grey stallion felt obliged to return the courtesy, but his shoulders hurt terribly, so instead he inclined his head respectfully.
With chatty fluidity, the dark stranger introduced herself, the land they both stood in, and complimented his horn—Howl was quite impressed with the ease in which she did this. "Thank you," he said gratefully, making a note to associate a strange name to a strange face, "my name is Howl." His tail flicked with curiosity, causing his tail-cuff to rattle against his skin; he hadn't expected to encounter an inhabited land, never mind one called Helovia.

Hundreds of questions unraveled at his tongue, but before he could articulate any of them, the grey stallion heard another feminine voice. He turned his head to encounter a mare with the very same coat colour as himself, but she was completely devoid of any horns, or any other feature which would mark her as a unicorn. Behind her in a creek was a fox-like creature with the most tails he had ever seen on a single beast. For a moment, Howl was visibly surprised by this unusual hornless lady and her many-tailed friend, but managed to wrangle his expression into a politer one. "Why, yes, as a matter of fact," he replied rather belatedly, glancing at Ovi before taking a tentative step towards her, "I've been travelling for many weeks, and was hoping to find a peaceful place for a brief respite." Perhaps they had ideas? The two mares did not seem like wanderers to him—they were both clean and in good condition.

No sooner than the grey mare had let herself be known, another newcomer approached (at the point they seemed to him like flies swarming over fresh meat, but he relished the attention nonetheless); a youthful-faced stallion with a tree engraved on his shoulder. He bore a handsome rack of antlers, on which was perched a dainty lantern-light which reminded Howl a little of home. When the newest stranger introduced himself, Howl bowed his head once more, glad that the inhabitants of this queer place were of a welcoming sort. He wondered what a Moon Doctor was (it sounded impressive), or where the World's Edge lay (it sounded dangerous), and resolved to find out soon. "I'm Howl," he said, watching Tilney inquisitively, "my path lays back many miles, but I hope to end it here. My body is fine, but my mind is in need of a rest." At this point, his golden eyes moved to each of the strangers—Ovi, the grey mare, and Tilney, wondering which doors each could open, or which they could shut. "Would any of you happen to have a home you could share with a weary wanderer?"