It takes mere seconds for the subconscious to bring to light an image supposedly forgotten, a wavering ghost of a thought. It is a dream from a past haunted, something that had taken such care and practice to lock away in the first place. However, there is something more surreal about being pulled abruptly from a memory so clear. For a moment one’s soul seems suspended in a limbo between fantasy and reality, where the world around you seems to blur, laced with visions from a time bygone. The only sound is the rapid, racing thud of a beating heart, and shallow, labored breaths. Everything is sharper, brighter, as the senses are overwhelmed by the onslaught. It is a moment so fleeting that one might find themselves wondering if it had truly happened at all, a déjà vu of the petrifying sort.

Wings and wind and the noise of the stranger drag Ree from the deep, back into this real world of cold and ice and miserable snow. Startled by the sudden appearance of the stranger in front of her she jumps reflexively, eyes wide and nostrils flared in trepidation, doing her best not to slide on the slick, frost covered slope- an attempt made in vain. In an uncharacteristic act of sheer clumsiness the bay mare falters and her right foreleg slips forward, and she all but tumbles to her knees. In her embarrassment she barely catches the winged mare’s greeting, but she manages to compose herself, planting all four feet squarely beneath her and trying her best to erase the smoldering remains of mortification that make her cheeks glow with warmth even against the frigid breeze.

“Greetings indeed,” she replies curtly. Ree bows her petite head ever so slightly in respectful return, causing her already wild hair to fall even more haphazardly across her face, shielding her brown-gold eyes behind a curtain of tangled, wind knotted tendrils of black. “As for being troubled, I suppose trouble follows me as I go. I’ve grown quite accustom to its unavoidable company.”

Her words might have seemed a bit abrupt, a bit crass, but it was her nature to act as such, an instantaneous, preprogrammed reaction to anything new and unknown. As Ree observed the new face before her she pondered the wings folded across the mare’s back, the glossy feathers that gleamed brilliantly against the white world around them, and she could not recall the last time she had seen a Pegasus. For a brief moment a pang of jealousy kindled in the bay mare’s belly, and she wondered and marveled at what it might be like to fly. What an escape it must be, to leave all the earthly things so far below, and be lost entirely amongst the cloudy expanse of the sky.

Freedom.

It was something Ree longed for constantly. Freedom from what exactly, she couldn’t say for sure. Many things from her previous life that she carried with her kept her bound in chains and locks, baggage of the psychological sort that she was incapable of releasing entirely, no matter how hard she tried. It was part of the reason why she had come here; thinking that maybe a new life entirely could somehow eradicate the scars of failures and the misery of bad choices. For so long she had resisted uprooting herself, partly because of her stubborn, pig headed nature, but also because of the fear of the unknown. She had never had to admit to herself all the facets that make up her ridiculous perception of reality until now, and it was forcing her to reevaluate all the decisions she had ever made.

It left plenty of room for skeletons to come dancing right out of the closet. And dance they did.

< font color="f0a25c">“Ree,” she speaks suddenly, breathlessly, as if she hadn’t been breathing at all, “My name is Ree. Forgive me as well; too much time alone leaves much to be desired as far as my manners are concerned.”

The crunch of ice follows her words as she shuffles her hooves across the frozen ground, the sun casting rays across the both of them, gleaming bay and glistening dark surrounded by the stark, bleak wintertime. Yet, for as empty as the world around them appeared to be, Ree couldn’t help but notice the feeling company stirred in her. The cold, desolate and frantic look that had lingered in her eyes was replaced by something softer. Loneliness had never bothered her before, for she was most certainly used to being alone in all definitions of the word, but this time was different. She couldn’t help but feel its gnawing presence work its way through her chest, tightening and binding itself around the walls she built much like a creeping vine. It works its way steadily through all the cracks and crevices left behind by the destruction and damage that comes with the effort of living and the passage of time.

"The woods are lovely, dark, and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep. "

< /div>

"Some of us are more prone to it than others, it seems. It would appear as though its presence is rather inevitable."

Ree gave an agreeable toss of her head, the gesture accompanied by a soft, windy laugh rolling past parted lips. A gleam entered her gilded brown eyes that had not previously been there, something part mischievous, part amusement. She could not deny that the winged roan was nothing but right. Ree felt a sense of normality ebb back into her at this new found amity, a remedy for muscles that had previously been taught and coiled with tension and an elixir of life for bones wary and heavy with the hardships of travel. The sense of unease that often followed her in any new endeavor subsided enough to allow her racing mind to slow itself little by little. Again the memories and unwanted thoughts of before can be shuffled, shifted and put back in their proper place. That sad ache that habitually defined their presence recedes to a nearly unnoticeable twinge, something much more manageable. Something that can, for the most part, be completely ignored.

< font color="f0a25c">“Cassiopeia,” Ree mirrors the name aptly, a near melodious sound, < font color="f0a25c">“The pleasure is mine.”

A breeze drifts at her back, rustling the many branches of the surrounding trees, creating a crackling, whispering trill of wood and leaves on the winter air. The sunlight shimmers and dances its way down from the canopy above, alighting on the two mare’s coats with a warming radiance against the biting cold. Ree can’t help but return her attention to the beautiful, gleaming feathers of the wings that are perched upon Cassiopeia’s lithe back. The bay mare is encompassed by part jealously, part wonder, but she manages to draw her eyes away before her staring reached the point of intrusive. At the question of her origins her ears twitch, flick forward and shift thoughtfully, curiosity given rise at the talk of herd lands. It makes Ree realize she hadn’t thought much past her original goal, which was to travel for as far and long as she could without looking back.

She hadn’t expected to make it this far.

“From a place far enough away I have hoped to leave all the memories of it behind.” Vague though her answer may be, Ree can’t help but get the notion that this new friend isn’t the type to push or prod. She wills that this answer, though lacking specifics of any sort, will be enough to temporarily assuage any fears or uncertainties of her motivations. “As for these herd lands you speak of… I haven’t any preplanned notions of where I am headed. Up until now, fate and chance have been my humble guides.”

The information the winged mare has provided has spun Ree’s thoughts in another direction entirely. She quietly ruminates on what she has just said, almost unnerved at how true the words had been. Being someone built on a foundation of preparation, concise structure and unwavering authority, it was uncannily uncharacteristic that she had essentially thrown herself to fortune’s wolves. And here she stood, still physically in one piece, despite the lingering doubts of her emotional stability. But Ree would not complain, it was more than she had initially hoped for, and for now that was enough.

“Tell me more of this Helovia in which we stand.” Ree’s inquiry leaps from her throat in a quick and abrupt trill of feminine vocals. Her words are sudden and sharp and filled with an impulsive spark of inquisitiveness, a hunger for knowledge, “I am the stranger here, and to be quite frank the unknown and the nameless are things I take no comfort in. I lack the same conviction of certainty I sustained during my youth. I am learning to accept change, a feeling I am still growing accustom to. Perhaps you can point me in the right direction.”

History books are the resting places of stories that tell the tales of wayward wanderers who had trusted their wellbeing to strangers, much to their folly. Ree doesn’t doubt that there are dangers in doing such things, but with nothing left to lose, she allows her previous framework of carefully configured logic dissolve and give way to a creature who has the a newly acquired taste for risk.

"The woods are lovely, dark, and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep. "

< /div>

Ree was nothing if not diligent. She listened to Cassiopeia’s discourse of this new world intently, soaking up the information as it was given to her, thirsty for the knowledge. It was a comforting feeling to have something else to think about, to have a decision to make, and as the roan mare described the different herd lands, Ree painted grandiose pictures of their landscapes and leaders in her mind’s eye as Cassiopeia described them. She wondered at the talk of Gods and Goddesses. She did not come from a family of strong, profound spirituality, but the idea of a higher power had always intrigued her in a terrifying, spectral sort of way. To know that another being entirely held your fate in their hands was beyond Ree’s logical, forward way of thinking. Perhaps she would like to visit this volcanic island of legend and other worldly beings someday.

She couldn’t help the reflexive shiver of delight as she imagined warmer, sunnier climates than this winter encased woodland she had stumbled upon. And though all the lands sounded intriguing, the childish amazement that sometimes drove some of her more conceited, petty thought yearned to visit this land of winged horses the blue roan mare spoke so fondly of. The genuine look of kindliness on the mare’s pretty face was encouragement enough for Ree, who felt drawn to the prospects of a real friendship, something she had never truly experienced. For so long her life had consisted of relationships in which she had been used, emotionally and physically. Recalling the people and places involved in them was an unwanted, painful reminder of the baggage she still carried. But it strengthened her too, invigorated her and made her even more determined to begin again. A phoenix rising from the ashes.

“Though I might be out of place amongst your winged brethren, I would gladly follow you to your home. Warmer climates would be a reprieve against this horrid cold.” Ree gave a soft chuckle, the sound accompanied by the wisps of her smoky breath on the cool, frostfall air. From beneath the wild, wayward strands of her forelock she peered back at the roan with an equally earnest grin, bespeaking a confidence that had not originally been there. “I have enjoyed your company as well, if I may be so bold. Solitude is not something I am accustomed to, and I have not liked it in extended quantities. If nothing else it would be a relief to share the journey with you, another voice to talk to – besides the ones in my head – would be a welcome change.”

Ree began to feel warmer, a radiance that had not previously been there, fighting back against the windy, wintery chill. Maybe this was the first step, the first in many of a long road she had yet to travel. Helovia in all its mystery and allure might hold the key to fixing the broken foundations and the cracked walls of a lonely, shattered soul. So many things had led Ree here to this, the triumphs and tragedies of life that had created who she was. A storm of emotions collect in her chest, she imagines in that space where her heart would be, and they fuel the searing burn of regret that lingers there, the sadness of loss. For a moment what would appear to be inexplicable sorrow shades the bay mare’s expression, a quick glimpse of heart break that is gone almost as quickly as it had come.

All healing occurred in due time, but some things once broken could never be mended again.

"The woods are lovely, dark, and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
and miles to go before I sleep,
and miles to go before I sleep."