They had been lucky enough to find a stream running through the threshold that day, so naturally they all took the opportunity to wet their tongues and bodies as thoroughly as possible. With Tallsun in full swing, the three thick coated stags found themselves soaked with sweat more often than not. Though Lochan and Rakt had quickly made a habit of rubbing off old fur against trees, and Ashamin's winter coat was mostly gone, the Clovenheart's beard grew thicker every day. It seemed that what he had assumed was a temporary addition afforded by age and a particularly cold winter was to become a constant feature.

And so it was that all three splashed in the crisp water, more cheerful than usual as a unit and looking, in some ways, quite innocent. It ran faster at the bottom of a hill that fell sharply, and almost created a miniature set of falls. With wet pebbled between their toes, Rakt and Ashamin squared off in a mock-spar stance as the companions had done at the Endless Blue when they had met Ovidius, and were it not for Lochan's alertness they might have begun to tussle. But the Little Eye was always watching, even when the bright day dulled his senses and lulled him to sleepiness. Thus, Lochan was naturally the first to hear the mare in the wood.

Company, the cerndyr murmured through the bond as the sound of hooves drew closer. Upstream.

Of course, as always, he was right. Just up the hill Ashamin saw the tips of light ears, and with a nod to his companions he urged them all to greet their owner. By the time they crested the hill she was looking around; Ashamin couldn't tell if, by the way her gaze searched, she knew where she was going or not.

Having nothing to lose but time, which he somehow felt was endlessly available after serving as the haruspex for so long and learning only that he was mortal and inconsequential, the Clovenheart sped up his pace and trotted closer to the mare, his lips turned up in a bright expression. The two cerndyr that always shadowed him peered at the mare, each inspecting her in their own manner before concluding that she would most likely not be any fun to fight in a spar. Then again, looks could be deceiving.

"Greetings, stranger!" Ashamin called to her as he aimed to close the gap between them. When he felt he was close enough he extended his cheek, offering it to touch as he had become minimally famed for. "My name is Ashamin the Clovenheart, and these are my companions Lochan and Rakt," he introduced, nodding to each cerndyr as he said their names. "Are you new to Helovia?"

His black eyes, so often chilled, seemed warm in the Tallsun light. He may have been raised in a land of eternal cold, but the summer still had a certain charm--a way of transforming his visage into something brighter. His offered cheek was a pale and cold blue as his chest marking illuminated it though, and with his full beard dripping with water, he almost looked as if he were a relic of Frostfall just beginning to melt into the very essence of happiness. In some ways, perhaps that was true.

""