Of course she follows. In the end, she didn’t care where they went. Lyanna simply needed a friendly face, and she needed out of the Edge. She needed to feel like she belonged here, somewhere, even if that feeling never quite stuck. With Glasgow, at least, she had a friend. So when the pale mare suggests the Endless Blue, Lyanna nods and follows without hesitation. They keep the conversation light and easy, which is just fine. They’ve shared so much of their pasts to one another already, it is not necessary now. Conversations about the warming weather are okay sometimes.

Glasgow finds a large, flat piece of driftwood, and as she does, Lyanna begins clearing the edges of the marshlands, scooping dead plants from the water with her hooves, pushing logs with her shoulder, and plopping the bones on the piece of wood. After a moment, a question comes, soft and personal, though Lyanna doesn’t mind personal. “Yes,” she says, her answer equally quiet. Honest. “Perhaps that wouldn’t be true if I hadn’t been born with it. But I was. The wind and I were the same thing. Without it…without it, sometimes I don’t know who I am.”

She pauses in her work for a moment to look at her friend, wondering if her answer is crazy or strange. But even if it is those things, it’s also how she feels. Before long though, there’s the voice of another approaching, and she turns her attention to him both grateful for more distractions and loathe to give up a conversation with Glasgow. The stallion seems friendly enough, slightly flirtatious, and…well, and with bones in his antlers. She laughs, something that feels good after so little laughing through winter, as the bones rattle and stick there.

“Of course,” she says, closing the distance toward the stallion, lifting a hoof and indicating he should lower his head enough for her to dislodge the bones. And it’s then, as she stands there with a hoof in the air to dislodge bones from antlers, she hears you two look intelligent enough, and she nearly breaks down into fits of giggles. Nearly. She doesn’t – years of training to keep her composure kicking in – but the entire thing seems rather hilarious at this point. Does she, in fact, look remotely intelligent standing here? Or to be fair, was she actually referring to Lyanna at all? But this mare, with wings behind her ears instead of on her back, seems to in fact be looking and her and Glasgow.

“Lyanna, one of the Moon Doctors of the Edge,” she offers to the mare who introduces herself as Maren, glancing briefly at the stallion as well and trying very, very hard not to just crack up. It’s tempting. But then the golden sleuth shows up and her desire to laugh dies in her throat. Maren’s question – which Lyanna hadn’t much of an answer to anyway, having only spent a year in Helovia – is entirely forgotten. It’s rude, and she should know better, but she’s too ready to punch Toulouse in the face to think.

Thankfully, none of it shows on her face. She keeps her attention largely on the stallion and the bones in his antlers, as the new World’s Edge Specter continues to proceed around with a whole lot of exuberant and a hiss of not a word to her and Glasgow. And then, he introduces himself as Barnabas. She nearly gives him up right there. The words are on the tip of her tongue. How easy it would be. Barnabas? Have you been lying to the whole Edge about your name, sir? Or something like that. But she keeps her mouth shut. One, and most importantly, because she’s not sure it benefits the Edge to give him up right at this moment. And two, because she now has a little secret on Toulouse that does not benefit him to know. And she’s still pissed enough at him for trying to shove Raeden off a cliff that she isn’t above keeping secrets and using them to her advantage.

So instead, she pays him little mind, offering him a nod of greeting and ignoring the story about how he ended up the Throat. The very same story that he’s been recently berated for in the Edge. Instead, she recalls Maren’s question now, and turns her attention to Maren, all the while resisting the urge to glance at Glasgow and roll her eyes. “I don’t have much of a guess about the bones, I’m afraid. I’ve only lived here about a year, and I admit, where I come from, things like this did not happen.” The controlled elements where she came from. They had no Gods. Life here is terribly different. “As the Diviner for the Throat though, I’m guessing you know more than I do. Do you have any ideas?”