From atop the high peaked foothills the forest had seemed inviting and familiar. The expanse of green leaved trees was not unlike the one he had lived in since his birth, which was namely the reason he had been persuaded to descend from the higher trails and slip into the trees. He was fatigued from the long journey, taking little opportunities to rest and travelling mainly by the cover of night. He was no longer looked upon kindly in his homeland, and so leaving it had been the necessary course of action. He had at first been reluctant to leave, but consoled himself with the thought that it would be profitable, perhaps, to work with a change of scenery and a new identity. In such rough condition, however, whoever came across him was more than likely to form an unappealing opinion.

His forelock was dampened by the dew that had gathered in the early morning air, mane hanging in heavy strands down his neck. It had not been an easy trek from the foothills, and his limbs were soaked to the knees with mud, reddened by scratches from clawing brambles. A cloud hung over the stallions head, fatigue dragged at his eyelids, and all he wanted was to rest, yet the wet ground would not do anything to better the condition he was in. He was glad that winter was over, and he could now look forwards to the warm embrace of summer.

The forest seemed to hold a feeling of serenity within its ancient branches, and a quiet calm spanned throughout the entirety of the woods. He felt a strange sense of belonging under the shadows of the budding tree limbs, among the sea of mist that had come with dawn. With a flurry of bird song, a sparrow lit from a branch and flitted over his head, tan wings beating the air as it caught the wind and was borne above the trees. The creatures in the forest seemed at comfort; lazily sung notes were trilled by blackbirds perched high in the trees, filling the chilled air with a soft and lilting music. Roland dipped his head, picking his way through the budding, awakening trees. Rays of diluted sunlight slanted through the leafy branches, scattering in the thick mist. It wrapped around the trees and moved with the breeze, pushed like a current of water as it wound through the forest and parted around the stallion's chest.

Roland wandered with no particular aim or direction, walking where the ground lead him and throwing caution to the wind. He stopped only when he arrived at a break in the trees, the ground sloping steadily downwards before his hooves. It formed a small bowl like the palm of a hand sunk into the ground, water cupped in its grasp. A layer of ghostly mist lingered over it, and sunlight glinted off the water's surface. Above him, the blanched sky was beginning to regain colour, vibrant streaks of pink snaking across the horizon.

Desperate to get clean, Roland didn't hesitate to wade into the frigid pool, sinking in up to his elbows. He let out a hiss as the cool water swirled around him, biting into his skin like shards of ice. With some difficulty the mud was washed from his limbs, along with the blood of unnoticed wounds. Refreshed, he emerged once again and relaxed by its bank. In small rivulets like drops of ice, the cold water streamed across his champagne pelt and down his legs, pooling around his feet. The frigid temperature seemed to clear his mind of some of the troubling fog, and he gazed off into the distance with a contemplative look, watching as the sun shone against the distant, hazy mountains.

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Mist rolled in great billowing clouds from the distant peaks, saturating the forest with a thick vapor that made the distinguished lines of every tree trunk, every dislocated rock, uncertain. The sun was rising above the mountains, aurelian light shining down through the trees and painting Roland’s champagne hide a dazzling gold. A breeze whispered through the foliage, leaves losing their grip on the young spring branches and spiraling towards the ground long before their time. The stallion turned his head, watching as the coral-painted petal of a flower came to rest upon the surface of the water. Afloat, it composed gentle ripples that spanned across the pond’s glass surface.

He was so absorbed in watching the stirring of nature around him that at first he did not hear the soft footsteps against the spongy forest floor. As a shadow presented itself from among the darkened trees, Roland’s head swung around sharply, ears perked. He hadn’t expected to come across another creature, especially of his kind, at a time so early in the day; no hint had been left in the forest that told of civilization among these hallowed woods. The auburn mare called out a melodious, cheerful greeting to him, her voice resonating through the swaths of mist surrounding their guarded clearing. She seemed to pose no threat, and though his tensed muscles relaxed, the stallion did not let his guard down. Her timid smile was returned in kind, reciprocating her greeting with an equally friendly, “hello,” spoken in an alluring voice of liquid gold.

She dipped her head to him in greeting, spiraling ashen horn catching the glint of diluted sunlight. Her welcome was unprejudiced and kind, and she spoke of a land that was not familiar to him. “Lena,” he echoed with a honeyed smile, making no secret of examining her appealing form. “A pretty name for a pretty girl,” he complimented. It was clear she wasn’t there to flirt, however, and in truth neither was he, so he shifted the subject to himself cautiously. “My name is Roland. ” Of nowhere… he added bitterly in the silence of his own mind, dipping his chin in a bow. Normally his name wasn’t given out so freely, but there was no way she could tell who he was, or learn his past from the wariness in his eyes, disguised by a smile. No alias had to be used in strange lands to protect his identity. The knowledge, and now proof, that he could start with a clean slate was liberating.

How far had he come to escape the home that now viewed him as a manipulative reprobate? Would it be wise to stop here, where there were clearly others of his kind? Or would he simply continue with his old ways and delve deeper into trouble. Habits were not left behind as easily as old friends and enemies. Still, Lena had yet to prove she could be trusted, and though on the outside he appeared open and laid back his mind was scrutinizing her carefully. “Is your home nearby then?” He inquired, prodding her discreetly for information while the interest seemed purely conversational. He gestured with his metallic horn to the forest around them and the distant mountains that rose like prison bars across the dawn horizon.

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Sweet bird song resonated above the trees, filling the air with spring’s gentle hymn. A lark soared past above their heads, lending its euphonious tune to the melody that echoed throughout the forest. Roland listened to the lilting refrain, moving so the water no longer lapped at his heels. He paused beneath the shelter of a tall oak that clung precariously to the sloping bank, misshapen leaves stretching overhead. They cast feeble shade across his features, painting him a darker hue of muted gold and bittersweet champagne. Dappled shadows spilled across his back, swaying as the wind stirred the young branches. Roland’s head dipped in acknowledgement as he listened to the dark mare, wondering at her kind and innocent manner. Were her mannerisms just a wall she’d erected for protection; a mask that hid her true being and disguised her honest thoughts? Yet not every being he met would reflect his personality; the tendency to portray a different character on the surface, while beneath he was only living a lie.

Was there no remedy for a silver tongue? He had not assumed that beginning a new page in his life would wipe the foregoing tales from the coveted document, that the impulse to toy with perception was too strong a habit to stray from. Yet he had hoped to control the addiction of manipulation that manifested in his heart and sugar coated every word with false emotion. His insides churned at her offer, and he turned his head away from her as if to gain a moment alone in thought. His eyes were shadowed by his silken forelock, russet mane plastered to his neck. The dampness had not yet been dried away by the caress of the early morning sun, and the cool dawn air bit into the blooming scarlet wounds dashed across his legs. Though the mud had been washed from his sleek pelt, the fresh lacerations were not so easily healed. They stung persistently with every breath of crisp wind against his body.

He did not want to waste her time, or have her feel she had spent the morning in conversation to no profitable result, but he was not yet ready to make the commitment required in a herd again. His thoughts needed collecting, organizing, analyzing; he would only pose a burden to her were he to accept her invitation. Perhaps he would wander deeper into this land, Helovia, and think over the offer; but he simply could not jump to the promise of loyalty without weighing the options that were presented to him at this crossroad. He did not trust easily. His sapphire eyes studied the rippling patterns that coursed across the pond, as if the deep water would hold the solution to his uncertainties.

“I think I must pass on your offer for now. My reasons are ah, complicated,” he explained vaguely, giving her an apologetic smile that revealed nothing of his thoughts. The expressions that played across his slender face were mere mockeries of the secrets and fragments of hidden past that flitted through his mind, but he appeared on the outside collected and orderly. A friendly stranger of respectable birth that had come in search of a new life; but it was not so. “You’ve piqued my interest, however. Tell me about your herd. ” Any information that she could offer him would be gladly taken, stored at the back of his mind lest it serve him some purpose later on. If he was on the borders of a new realm he did not want to walk into it blind.

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Whether it had been her motive to recruit him, or she had initially just approached to converse with him, Roland knew the mare would leave empty handed. He was pleased to see she was understanding of his decision, though he could see the whisper of disappointment on her face. Her heartfelt wish brought a smile to his lips, and he inclined his head in thanks. It had been too long since he’d held conversation with a kind and friendly being, and his mind was allowed to stray from the troubles that clouded through his weary mind. At least she asked no questions, sparing him the strenuous task of fabricating reasons for his wander lust. He did not know what he was looking for, if there even was anything he sought, but he too hoped that it would come to him in time.

His enthusiasm somewhat blanched at her description of the herd lands she hailed from, though it did not show on his face. She painted a vivid picture with her words, yet a land of cold and ice was not an idea that appealed to him, when he patronized the sun and relished its warmth. He was a vain and selfish creature at heart; anything that would force him to endure discomfort or unhappiness would be avoided at all costs. But that wasn’t a fact he would openly advertise, for he was not proud of the trait. Still, her offer was intriguing, and perhaps one day he would visit if his travels ever led him in the direction of the Aurora Basin herd. It could be the home he’d always wished for, but he was not ready to face the bitter cold of winter again after the season had just passed. There would be time to consider her offer in the calm of solitude, a companion he was no stranger to after months alone.

“Thank you, perhaps I will,” he said truthfully, fixing the auburn mare with a kind cerulean gaze. The first words to pass his lips in this new realm were not a bundle of interwoven lies, coated in honey and alloyed with fragments of the truth so it was not too difficult to swallow. She even had his name, which was a detail he did not normally gift to others, especially ones he had just met. It bestowed both a twisted feeling of uneasiness and comfort in his heart. As long as he did not sully his title once again with the moniker of con artist or gyp, she would have no reason to use it against him; motivation for him to change his ways lest he be chased from Helovia as well. Yet without the falsities he commonly spoke, tainting ever word with vibrant guile, he seemed emotionless and flat, void of life and colour.

He did not know where he would travel next, or where the meandering trails that wound throughout the vibrant forest would take him, but he sensed it was time to make his leave. He had nothing else to say to her, and there was nothing more she could do for him; there was no reason for him to further consume her precious time. He glanced towards the rising sun, rays of watery light oscillating across the washed-out sky. Dawn had passed them by, and the day was in the cool embrace of morning. He wanted to make as much use of the daylight as he could, no longer feeling it was necessary to travel by night in this new land.

“I should be on my way,” he pointed out, as if it were a sudden realization rather than the nagging feeling at the back of his mind it had truthfully been. He turned away from Lena, moving slowly, experimentally into the trees, away from the mountainous foothills he’d descended from. “I hope we will meet again. ” He cast a glance back to Lena, hoping his leave was not too abrupt. There was little time he could waste in conversation when his future lay, bare and unrealized, before him. With a final smile of farewell, he vanished into the trees, thoughts still lingering on the sienna mare. Helovia was to be his new haunting grounds.

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