The soft rays of daybreak turned into harsh, unforgiving tendrils of Tallsun heat. The Foothills was bathed in the golden rays, painting the green grass that was once charred and dead underneath the inglorious foothold of the Sun God. What happened so many seasons ago was not stored in memories of those that newly graced their lives in the rolling hills, but it was etched deeply into the hearts of those that truly belonged. However, there would forever be a veil of darkness that loomed over the brightness of the Sun, for it had caused too much damage to remain with dignified glory—at least, in the dark warrior’s mind, the Sun reigned with untamable dishonor. The Dauntless felt an incredible peace now that he was back, roaming the dips and arches of the Foothills, despite the shadowy past. He moved now with no intention, merely acquainting himself again with the territory he had been apart from for weeks. He was truly at home here, not even the Mystic Woodlands could compare, for this was Archibald’s true home.

His meandering, however, transformed by one single scent that crossed over his pale muzzle. His mind instantly recognized it as the buckskin mare he had battled with in the recent invasion. Archibald’s bright eyes narrowed slightly, a dark haze shifting their appearance. With a simple flick to his tail, the Dauntless turned his hooves to seek out the mare. Loretta, noticing this change, searched his mind for his answer. Images and memories of Ailith and Archibald battling for the claim of territory filled her mind as she used her bond to unlock chambers of her bondmate’s memory. Snorting, Loretta quickened her pace to drive ahead of Archibald. Her amber eyes, wide and observant, took what they saw and implanted it into Archibald’s brain to replace his own sights. Their bond was complete trust, trust beyond anything Archibald had ever known before.

Loretta’s haste proved true, and the pair finally was rewarded with a clear image of the mare. Loretta, still sharing with Archibald, glanced up to gaze into the pink hued eyes of the mare, and from her throat spilled a small sound between a growl and a whine. Moments later, Archibald approached from behind his companion, shaking her sight from his eyes. ”Have you decided to stay on these lands as a rogue, unwelcomed; or, have you been invited by the new authority?” Archibald’s voice was deep, low, but clear. His golden eyes, eyes that matched Ailith’s coat plainly, locked onto her crystalline amethysts, waiting for a response.