Tallsun was creeping back in, and it was not a thing Mauja approved of. The days grew longer and hotter, the nights shorter and brighter; the oppressive heat would soon settle like a blanket, smothering. Would this summer bring fits of rage and droughts, too, or would they be allowed to suffer it in peace at least? The last time the season had come around had been, quite literally, hell for the frost-lover, with heat haze dancing upon a torrid horizon and nothing but arid steppes were lush meadows had been. Snorting, he hoofed it through the Threshold forest. The Sun had been on a rampage the last time around — if he behaved this year, would it be more pleasant? Was it just his bad experience speaking through faithless voices? Maybe. Maybe not.

He stalled for a moment, teetering on the brink between truly stopping and moving forward, his eyes growing clouded with thought. Having been on some trip through time and space, into a world that sometimes was merely alternate, and sometimes ancient, had somehow given his thoughts more channels to run through. How had the summers been back then, in the land he had walked alone, the land which had largely been untouched by hoof and horn, and never known the shade of wings? No point in wondering, lest the playful spirit which had pulled him there felt his curiosity and took him back. Curious he might be, but Mauja had no desire to return to that place. His life was here, and bit by bit he was starting to believe that he truly was back.

Moving on, the alabaster stallion swept through the forest on familiar paths, eventually climbing one of the knolls merely because a not too old trail led up there. Flicking his tail behind him in a fruitless attempt to fan his hocks. One oak, older than the rest, towered above the small hill, and beneath it slept a dark shape. Or rested — he couldn't quite tell. A shimmering black hide covered a sleek shape, her mane and tail white as the newly fallen snow (not that you'd see any of that in summer), and the sunlight glittered upon a gold-trimmed horn. The regal Mauja crept closer, the sounds of his frosted hooves meeting the earth like a whisper. "It is unwise to sleep in the Threshold." His voice held amusement, and a small smile played upon his face. Either she was very confident, or very stupid, to sleep in such an unknown place. "It can be dangerous here."