As evening starts to envelope the fields and hollows nestled above the threshold, just to the east of the Falls, the piebald unicorn finds herself not wishing to go toward home just yet. She turns her face to the north, cold winds blow across her face and she can smell the ice and snow from the Steppe. Home can wait a little longer, eh? Her raven leans down from his pine branch he’s perched upon and clucks a few times, blinking curiously at his horned companion. Threshold? Her thoughts are hers and his, they share the echo off her soft honeyed voice within their minds. Yeah, Threshold. As if she’s thought it over so carefully, her bird too, and so they depart in sync.

Phrixus climbs into the dimming sky quickly, his altitude perfect for scanning far and keeping a keen eye out below where his friend jogs along a thin worn path through the trees. A mile or so ahead, through aspen forests and open hillside lays a cluster of mammoth trees, some oak, some maple, some ash or beech, all very old. The ancient trunks are surrounded by only bare ground, moss and small ground-covering vegetation. The maple trees are seemingly ablaze in the afternoon light, their reddish tones just starting to set in, some others are yellow and orange, glowing against the fading daylight.

Lone. Unicorn. The raven’s voice is sharp and direct between her ears. Her toes stop their patter and her hazelnut eyes scan around, her hearing peeled. Phrixus coos to her, clicking and croaking as he dives toward an oak tree set away from the rest. Rain is starting to fall now, gathering in her hair and the tips of her fur and dripping from her chin. She walks to where her companion has lead her and turns the corner to find a lone woman beneath the oaks wide branches, somewhat sheltered from the coming rain (which is now starting to build). “Hello there,” She approaches gently, smiling as always, warmth in her sweet chocolatey eyes. The mare’s milky eyes are not the first of her kind she’s ever seen, but they’re captivating no less. “Welcome.” She knows the women is new, or at least returning, here to find someone or something, or a gateway through. “Tangere.” She nods and breaks eye contact to look out to the rain falling a bit harder than before, thunder rumbling in the far distance. “Did you bring the storm with you?” She giggles in innocent jest as she watches the horizon flash and blacken again.