Up early, down late. Sometimes he thought afternoon naps was the only thing which kept him sane. With his tendency to wake from nightmares in darkness sleep came hard, and with his fondness for early mornings, sleep was put off. He'd been enjoying the morning, the lingering chill of night in the early summer air, when the call came. Tiredly his ears swept to take all of it in, and for a moment he remained motionless, eyes on the sky. Psyche. The herd. A meeting. Exhaling heavily he closed his eyes. Did she have the right to summon him? Was this herd loyal to her, even the ones who had followed him after she'd left? What would his return mean? Too worn out by his exercise in time traveling he'd not announced himself to them, merely come back as a ghost, living among them, breathing the same air, sharing the same space. Quiet conversations and exchanged smiles. It had not been the return of a king.

To deny her call, would be.. rude. He flicked his ears back. Some days she felt like an enemy. Some days she felt like one of the missing pieces in his life.

He wanted to sleep. To close his eyes and drift off. Giving his head a shake he turned away from his spot of morning sun, passing into the shade.

After a while, Faelene came out of a patch of trees, and he greeted her with a forward flick of his ears and a low rumble in his chest. She said nothing, just smiled tiredly, and he wondered if she, too, hadn't slept in a while. If her body wanted to rest, just as his did. Lengthening his stride he caught up with her, walking almost nose-to-tail, following her steps. Soon he could see them, the herd — how many of them would recognize his pale face? Sighing, he steeled himself. When she stopped on the outskirts he stepped aside from her, reaching out to touch his muzzle to her shoulder before moving on. Myrddin, a wolf, the child from his return, and, ah, of course, the doctor. Had he heard of the rumors, or would it be a surprise? Briefly he glanced at the hellhound before working his way to the mender, nodding to Psyche in passing but not sure she would care. If she was even looking.

Clinging to d'Artagnan's red flank was a leggy youth, with both wings and horn. Resisting the urge to frown he ran his memories through his mind, sorting through it.. ah, yes. The moon child. -sec something. Isac? No. Ah, well. On the other side stood a striped stallion with dual horns. A newcomer. Giving the doctor a grin he tried to bump his muzzle before fitting in by his side, more or less sandwiching Mesec between them a little, though not in a careless, disinterested manner. Instead, he even reached back to try and give his forelock a playful tug, but he wasn't sure if the shy-looking kid would allow him to.

Psyche started speaking, of promotions; Faelene as Thief, and he gave his red-maned friend a long-distance smile, and someone called Crowley as Weaver. Well, who was that? Keeping his face smooth he listened to the wolf, and how they all scoffed at this idiot Tio. Next Psyche revealed Crowley to be the striped stallion on d'Art's other side, and Mauja stored the information in his head. Faelene confirmed Tio's plans. Mauja flicked his white tail. What an idiot...