It was getting darker, and Mauja roamed the Edge like a restless ghost. The days were getting hotter, promising for a cruel Tallsun, and memories he'd rather let stay buried had begun to poke their way up through the ash and soil—

Except the ash had all washed out, in slate gray rivulets from a torrential rain, eventually soaked up by the earth as nutrients for the new life pulled from its fire-wracked depths. Black scorched bark had grown healthy with the tug of the ancient's power, life restored where his wayward brother had taken it—but later, it had burned again, the dry heat of Tallsun perfect kindling for the spurned Keahi. No God had saved it then, and sometimes, Mauja found himself in the burnt section of the forest. A few trees still bore the mark of its hungry rampage, and forever would, but aside from that—in the true irony of fire, new life had grown aplenty. Low and wild and colorful, it set itself apart from the rest of the forest.

And it was that he didn't want to think about: fire. Wildfire. If the sun's rays drove the moisture from the trees and the grass, would something catch flame? Would a stray piece of glass from their broken wall amplify the heat, set a spark, and drive them into the arms of the sea as they sought escape from the certain death of smoke and flame?

For where the forest and the fields recovered, even thrived, after a fire, flesh did not. These brittle, fragile beings, with bones and hearts, died in fire.

“Naerys!”

The call was faint, distressed, carrying an edge of fear—Mauja's black-rimmed ears flicked, and his head shot up, neck stiff. What was—what was going on?

And when was the last time he had seen Naerys? Too long, too long, and he hadn't thought about it, not really, just like he hadn't spoken to Glacia in forever and Snö had been dead a year and—

He drew in a deep breath. He doubted Alysanne wandered the Edge like a wraith crying out for her child, so something must've happened. Something must've sparked all that fear and worry they carried in their hearts, because that fear and worry was born from love and love was the singularly most painful thing Mauja knew of.

And besides, Naerys was his friend, wasn't she?

He stopped stalling, and started running. The dirt path underneath his hooves was solid, familiar, one he had run how many times before? He didn't know, didn't care, but over the years he figured he had visited every nook and cranny of the Edge, from the rim of its white cliffs to the border now marked by glass—

Just as abruptly as he had started running, he stopped running; white hair billowed in a halo, pristine strands sticking to a sweat-gray neck. No one was dying. No one was injured. He didn't even know why his heart had begun to thrum so wildly, so madly, but it had, and with every step on the way he had started to see things in his mind, bad things, heartbreaking things, but there was just Alysanne, muzzle burrowing into the fluffy coat of a black cat.

A black cat trailing passionflowers.

Wide-eyed, he started to gracelessly backpedal, convinced he had interrupted a moment not meant for him.

[ my brain is leaky and weird and this was strange and I'm sorry :x ]