A long, tired sigh puffed through Sacre’s charcoal lips that pursed together, absent of thought, but drifting through the world as he made some sort of sketchy way back to the Worlds Edge. He had been to the Riptide Isles, seen something wild and magical that had occupied his mind for quite a while. Now, he was just tired, but subconsciously made the detour via the Threshold, as always he convinced himself that by searching for Roux he could also look to see if there were any recruits hanging around. Of course, Helovia’s claiming grounds always appeared to be ready to throw in a surprise entrance or two and Sacre was quite happy to snap up the chance of gaining another friend. Ever since that day on the island Kisamoa had made, the fox-boy had realised how little he knew the residents of Helovia these days, that there were more faces he didn’t know and, in the end, he only knew a couple. It bothered him to say the least and spurred him to be more forthcoming in meeting new faces—or well—more forthcoming than he usually was. In fact, he found solace in making friends, it made him forget the troubles that bugged the back of his mind by having something new and shiny to think about.

The crunch of dead leaves dogged his steps as branches pierced outwards, bare and waiting for Birdsong to breath life into them once again, but Birdsong was a long way yet. Sacre was followed by the trampling of paws and two sets of beady eyes, both belonging to fox-like creatures, though one was more redder than the other and one had many more tails. Their keen button noses caught onto the scent of someone new and they altered direction—another had arrived at Helovia’s doorstep.

A picture of black and red, mane strewn in messy clumps, Sacre bounced around another corner and finally he came across two more faces to greet. One he recognised faintly, an echo from his past, so vague that he wasn’t sure if he was mistaking her for someone else. He certainly didn’t know her by name. The other the fox-boy didn’t recognise at all. This one appeared to have lost his mane in the vastness of his tail whilst a pair of arrows decorated his legs, pointing upwards towards the curve off his neck and his skinny, dark horn. Though Sacre appeared to have caught them mid-conversation... Or confrontation?

Sacre dithered on making his entrance, not wanting to make it worse, but rattled by the harshness of the maneless stranger. "Nice entrance" he dryly thought at the back of his mind, but pushed it away. This wasn't the first time he had seen such animosity here. Perhaps the anxiety of being somewhere new put them on edge. Sacre was always reminded he could never understand such a feeling since he had never truly left Helovia... Perhaps one day he would and then maybe he might understand what it was like to not know where one was.

"Perhaps my friend might like to know who you are and why you are here?" he eventually asked neutrally, whilst his two foxes peered from behind his forelegs, hoping it would prompt the new stallion to remember that it was he who was the stranger here and should watch who he threatened. Or, at least, Sacre hoped that he might heed his words for the fox-boy was a sorry sight in battle and really wasn't any good with threats, or situations that required him to be more... Scary. Silently, he prayed the painted mare also wouldn't mind him calling her friend as he went to stand somewhere between the pair, smiling kindly at the girl and casting curious glances at the guy with arrows on his legs.