With great unease and a tingling sense of self-doubt mixed with a small ball of excitement, Sacre had regretfully let go of his healing magic, his role as Doctor, embracing something entirely different and yet, oddly the same. He took some refuge in self-indulgent pride that he had impressed enough to be thought of so highly and he still smiled when he replayed Tembovu’s words in his mind, he even had an extra skip in his step and a smile often bubbling on his lips ready to burst into a youthful euphoria. Yet, today, as he reached the cliff tops with the sun setting in the distance, his strange bemusement left him and the weight of it all suddenly came crashing down. There was a sadness that had lingered with him, he no longer had the power to heal, it seemed he was not destined to serve as a healer for as long as his father had, even though a small part of him still wished he could do both. If only the fox-boy could split himself in two. Alas, he had given up his role, hoping dearly that his leaders had chosen well, that this was where he would be most useful and helpful to this large mist-dwelling family he had grown so fond of.

Still, sometimes he wondered, what kind of advice he might give? What if he couldn’t come up with anything? Who would advise the advisor? Dragging himself away from the cliffs, he began to pace back into the woods, towards the wall and the gate. He wasn’t really paying much attention to where he was going, his mind was elsewhere, going through the ifs and buts and the maybes. Inari and Ríona had bounded off in front, ignoring their brooding friend in favour of hunting some late evening prey as by the time Sacre came within the vicinity of the gate the sun had descended into a twilight fever. His thoughts were only broken by the sudden intrusion of Inari inside his head causing the fox-boys blue eyes to snap sharply up.

Horses outside the red vulpine sent and soon after, the fox-boy heard the strange equine, yet almost reptilian, sounding call drift into his mismatched ears.

Stifling a curse, Sacre altered his course and increased his pace, peering through the mist until he could make out the lunar carvings on the iron gate. He pushed it open, leaving the marked borders of the Worlds Edge that were, as always, lined with glass spikes that never failed to make the fox-boy grimace. It wasn’t so much a welcome sign than it was a get lost sign, or so Sacre had always thought when he looked at the sharp points that looked eager to cut up some poor soul. The fact that its purpose was to look uninviting was entirely lost on one dear red-eared boy. 

Now flanked by two rather bouncy foxes, the Emissary made his way towards the two mares who lingered nearby, one of which Sacre recognised vaguely from their herd, but he didn’t know who the dragon hybrid was despite her impressive appearance that nagged at his curiosity. The other bay girl was completely foreign to him, but he smiled easily at both, almost as if he was greeting two friends as his face lit up with a boyish grin whilst he nodded to both “hey,” he began simply “who do we have here?” his young voice was light and kindly as he peered at them through the dim light. 

“I’m Sacre, perhaps I can help?” he asked finally with two beady eyed foxes gawking at their company from behind his dark forelegs.