Somehow she looses Lyanna in the crowds – Ru hates walking sometimes. It’s slow and time consuming. One simply did not see enough from the belly of the ground. Lost and uncertain for a moment, she releases a large puff of air from her lungs – and makes a hurried run. Beating silver tipped wings, and darting upwards into the sky.

There are a lot of lands to cover, a lot of rotting things and wasted debris to dispose of. But she yearns to make sure her friend is okay, that Kisamoa has not fooled them to split a part. With the intention of quietly killing them all off at the same time. The thought hurries the girl’s search. Following the generalized direction that she’d last seen Lyanna. It takes her to the salty edges of the Endless Blue.

It is pure luck that she stumbles on the group. Though it is only the black figure she settles her gaze upon, the familiar teal dipped tresses and her striking white hair. A sudden, unexpected sense of relief washes with the salty wind – and our heroine makes a quick dive upon the edges that gather these people together.

She intends to herald her approach with a whinny of sorts. There is another familiar face however, that steadies the young mare’s legs – and keeps her voice silent in the background.

Ru recalls Maren like a fond and distant memory. She is suddenly transported to her time in the Dragon’s Throat, and can only recall heartache that leaves her hollowed out on the shore. It seemed like only a day or two ago, that she had stumbled into Helovia with the intention of catching a rabbit. That she had just made the striped mare cringe all over again, having made contact with her warm and fuzzy pelt.

When Ru’s breath leaves her, she inhales with a shaky shudder. As long as Lyanna is close, and safe, she will be fine without her.

The feathered woman ignores the others, strangers. They’re all so far away, that she assumes she will go unnoticed. By then she’d witnessed the arrival of Toulouse, caught Lyanna’s reply that lilted into the air in murmurs. All seems rather fine.

Without a second thought she turns. Feeling off, nearly offended with something that happened a year ago. It was an accumilation of what ifs, the child's stay in the Throat, the beginning of how her life had ended in a confusing flury of wicked winds, and the hope of acquiring a new home that startled her. Ru looked to the sky, searching for its familiar gusts that might erase and dissolve the strange feelings.

She was off in a flury of feathers, in search of other beaches to attend.

There was work to do.