It was early morning and the sun was beginning to rise, cascading the sky in a brilliant display of pink and purple. It was a stark contrast to the night before, when a storm had ravaged the land and lightning had shook the earth to it's very core. The grass and leaves were drenched in left-over rain water, but soon it would evaporate. There was a chill on the breeze, a sign that winter was growing closer and closer with each day that passed, but perhaps the day would grow warmer once the sun rose higher into the sky. For now, however, birds began to creep from their homes and woodland creatures began to emerge from their dens, intent on foraging for food.

It was a peaceful day, now that the night's storm had passed, yet for one weary traveler, the peace meant nothing. It was blurred and ignored by the warring in her heart, her mind bitter and lost as mud-caked hooves stepped lethargically over a fallen log. The mare's once-white coat was splotched with mud from her mad dash into the forest, hardened clumps of dirt caught and tangled in the long strands of her mane and tail. There had been other things to worry about than her vanity during her mad escape the night before...

Each step that the mare took was agony, muscles rippling and twitching in exhaustion. Nostrils flared with each heaving breath, and the Andalusian's head was held low. All she could feel was a painful emptiness, the torment of loss robbing her from the beauty of her surroundings. No, Janus cared not for the sun that shone upon her marred white coat, nor the sweet and beautiful song of the birds that chirped from above... The only thing that was on her mind was that she had failed. Failed.

'... She's gone,' Janus thought bitterly, ache and sorrow causing her heart to throb as if in physical pain, 'They killed her... Oh, Riveth. What do I do?'

Janus was not one to live alone, for she had always had the company of Riveth, her beloved rider. Yet, the Elfen girl was no longer alive; Vallhea had finally fallen, and those who weren't killed were taken prisoner, leaving the ivory mare without her safeguard. The only thing left that she had left from her beloved rider was a collection of leather-strewn beads, braided into the white of her mane right behind her ear. Perhaps, Janus thought bitterly, death was an escape for what those murderers would have done otherwise. Even thinking such a thing did nothing to lessen the pain, however.

Ice blue eyes rose, quickly scanning her surroundings and taking in the trees that decorated the landscape. Fall was in full-swing, the colors of the leaves varrying from yellows to reds, some orange... Idly the Andalusian wondered just where she was. In her mad-dash to escape, location had been unimportant. All she had known was that she needed to get away from her captors... Now, however, the mare wished she had taken more care to keep track of where she had been.

Scratched and bruised legs halted, hooves sinking into the moist ground, and Janus let out a breath of exhaustion. The war-mare would be a fool to ler her guard down, but... She was so exhausted. Were there others here, in this beautiful land? Would they be friend or foe? Regardless, Janus lowered her head and lipped at a few blades of wet grass in an attempt to sate her hunger. If one looked upon her, they would only see a dejected, pathetic looking creature; skinny, covered in mud from the tip of her muzzle to the tip of her tail, and a haunted look to her blue eyes. An expired warrior, she was, lost without purpose.

Janus couldn't help but snort in self-loathing. "... Some war-mount I am," she muttered bitterly, teeth pulling a few blades of grass free from the damp earth, "Pathetic."

The grass was refreshing upon her tongue, the damp blades of greenery doing wonders to not only sate her hunger, but her thirst as well. In her time of escape, of running from those murderers, the white Andalusian neglected her own bodily needs. Janus' mind began to wander as she chewed on the sweet grass, wondering just what the grasses of this land were like in the seasons of rebirth. With winter so close, plants were beginning to wither and die, but that didn't stop the mare from enjoying her meal. She chewed thoughtfully before swallowing, head still held low, completely oblivious to the fact that she was no longer alone.

A voice echoed through the trees then, snatching her attention in less than a second. Janus' head shot up, ears pinned against the flat of her skull, and her head snapped to the side to spot just who had made himself known. Nostrils flaring in alarm, Janus took a step back as she surveyed him, ice-blue eyes locked on the pale stallion that had crept from the shadows. Questions blossomed in her breast; how long had he been watching?, Was he there to harm her?, Could he save her from herself Yet, as her eyes roamed over every curve of muscle and marred white hide, Janus simply felt as though there was nothing threatening about this newcomer. He had the look about of him of an experienced warrior who had seen many battles, and perhaps it was through that relation that the Andalusian found herself calming.

His words registered slowly, and the mud-covered mare listened. He spoke of war and the harm that it caused one's spirit and heart, and at his words, a bubble of emotion seemed to envelope her heart. It stung bitterly, and Janus found that she could no longer hold the stallion's gaze. With a slight turn of her head, the Andalusian looked downwards. So, then did he understand the pain of loss? The pain of watching the one you loved more than life itself fall to an enemy's blade? If only she had fallen in that war as well...

"Lev Fence," she whispered, her voice choked with sorrow, "Your words are kind and reassuring to hear, but I fear the only way you can help me is if you can ressurect the dead."

Blue eyes returned to Fence's marred white hide. She wondered where he had obtained his scars, but she would not ask. At least not right now. If being a soldier had taught her anything, it was that some stories were better left unsaid. Swallowing thickly against the emotion that threatened to rise, Janus took in a deep breath to try and steel her nerves. She needed to pull herself together, but... How? Janus knew nothing of living in the wilds; she had been hand-raised by Riveth in Vallhea. Would she even survive out here?

Letting out a soft, barely audible breath, Janus spoke. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to be rude... My name is Janus. As much of a pleasure that it is to meet you, I wish we could have met on different circumstances. Could you... Maybe tell me where I am? I'm not from around here, and..." Cutting herself off, the war-mare turned her head, looking back the way she had come. "... And I really don't want to be sent on my way." Returning to the hands of those murderers was the last thing that she would do. Janus would rather die first.

Ice-blue eyes remained locked on Fence's form, simply soaking in his appearance and trying to gauge just what, exactly, he wanted. Did he want anything from her? Or was he simply being a kind gentleman? Her last year in slavery had caused the Andalusian to become jaded and untrustworthy of those around her, but... There was something rather chivalrous about how Fence spoke to her; regarding her as an equal, not speaking to her as though she was inferior.

Her eyes soaked in the way that Fence's muscles rippled as he dared move closer, his caution not missed by the war-mare's experienced eye. He was moving slow as not to cause her alarm or unnecessary stress, and the blatant care and respect that he showed for her simply strengthened the decision that he did not mean her any harm. Fence's neck then stretched forward, his muzzle reaching outwards to her, and of it's own accord Janus felt her own move out to greet him. She was hesitant, pausing only a moment before allowing their noses to brush. It was a simple, faint contact before Janus pulled away, but it was enough to solidify the fact that she was no longer alone.

Meeting Fence, here in this strange forest of the land called Helovia, was a step in repairing the life that she had lost. While the idea of living in the wilds, alone, was still unappealing, the snow-colored mare knew she had no other choice. It was either make a life for herself here, or return to servitude. A pale ear flicked forward as Fence pulled away, his warm vocals causing a pleasant tune for her ears. He spoke of a land, the Windtossed Foothills, and the group that occupied it. The Grey... What a strange band, yet they sounded honorable, and Janus was nothing if not that. Would it do her good to have a steady force to back her? Would it help her wounded spirit to have a family...? Would she even be welcomed into this "Grey"?

"Fence," Janus responded after a few moments of deliberation, her voice soft and subdued, "Your offer is kind... And I think that perhaps you're right. It's been a very long time since I could trust those around me, rely on others to watch my back in vulnerable times. Perhaps, by having that, I'll regain who I am." The barest of smiles crossed the Andalusian's lips, but it did not meet her eyes. No, those ice-blue orbs were still glazed and dull with bitter pain. It would be a long time until those wounds would begin to heal.

Glancing down at herself and the mud that was caked to her frame, Janus let out a small breath. She truly was exhausted, and lacked any true desire to make herself presentable for this warrior before her. If she hadn't been so exhausted, the thought would have made her chuckle. Surely he must think she was quite the heinous creature, gallivanting through the wilds like a uneducated beast. Beast... The thought snapped her to a time, a very long time ago, when she had called a certain black Friesian a 'wild beast'. Oh, she would do nearly anything to return to that time... With a snap of her head, Janus ripped her mind from those thoughts. No. If she dwelled on that time right then and there, the war-mount was certain that she would lose her mind.

Instead, she refocused on Fence, gazing at him as though he were her lifeline. In a way, she supposed, he was, for he was offering her salvation. Did he understand the meaning of his own words? "If you and your band will have me, Fence, I will gladly follow you to the Windtossed Foothills. I am a soldier at heart, no matter how pathetic I may seem, so perhaps my strength and abilities will be to some use of you and your kin."