The downside of living by the Edge, from what he had noticed so far, was the mist. Ever present, it coated the forest and rocky coast in a damp mist that made cold days even colder. Blocking out the sun, it lent a mysterious and unearthly feel to the land that for some might be wonderful, but to him it was only bleak and miserable.

It wasn't the first time he had left the borders of the Qian stronghold that winter, and likely not the last either. The warmth that permeated the air and melted the snow on the ground was blessed and longed for, and it was quickly growing into a standard trip for the cold-coated grullo. From the Edge to the Threshold to look for recruits, down by the Meadow to scrape out some food from beneath the layers of snow and help Fajira to hunt; and once they'd had their fill they traveled south to bask in the warmth and solitude of the barren landscape, as a last treat to themselves before returning home.

Lace hummed quietly to himself as he strolled along the edge of the crater, with a look of content on the web-laced face. Heat penetrated the thick coat on the right side, slowly working its way in through muscles and toward the very core of his being. It eased the discomfort of the sore leg and the healing slash across the thigh, not to mention how it soothed his temperament. His dragon probably preferred the chill of the winter season, but he was always more comfortable when it wasn't so cold. Flies was easier to deal with than hunger, and he'd rather have sweat dripping from the coat than see snot freeze as it dripped from the nose. He shared the mental image of himself with snotty icicles hanging down the maw with Fajira, and was awarded with a trilling laughter that rolled across the landscape. He could see her silhouette against the dark ashen plume of smoke that rose steadily from the Heart, a white dove gleaming in pristine white. She was amusing herself thoroughly by playing in the thermal columns created by the hot air, soaring and diving, rolling and performing stunning aerial acrobatics. It was overall a perfect end to a pleasant trip.

Then something caught the attention of the stallion and made him slow down, ears slowly folding backwards against the neck. Something was lying on the ground up ahead, a pile of white snow splashed in crimson blood - no, not snow. A horse, with brightly colored tassels and a vividly red horn protruding from the forehead. A unicorn.

Before the invasion of the Edge, Lace wouldn't have thought twice about the race of the other horse, instead worrying only about the state of the creature's health and level of friendliness. But it was a fact that the Qian had driven away a large number of horned ones when they claimed the moon-blessed lands for themselves, and it meant that any unicorn he met outside the World's Edge was a potential enemy. A sad fact, but a fact none the less. Thus, it was with increasing wariness the white-maned equine studied the pale figure, muscles tense as he contemplated whether he should turn around. He wasn't in shape to fight, but didn't want to come off as weak or cowardly either... He flicked the tail indecisively, hesitating where he stood by the edge of the volcano.