Lonely from their years of humidity and quiet as the trees they came from ;;

Most in the world viewed the realm of morality in two differing perspectives. The young and naïve peered through black-and-white lens, their opinions entirely guided by the teachings of their elders; with age, the contrast decreased to reveal a grayscale so often overlooked when one’s ethics are guided by another’s hand. Cortana long since abandoned the juvenile filters of good and evil, yet she also observed more than the bleak spectrum of grayscale. When she looked around herself, she beheld color, as well as a certain depth beyond the fuzzy lines created in the blur between light and dark. Color brought a profundity to the world that the previous colorblind views lacked, for the vibrancy of the world held many more meanings then the simple monotone shades could possibly dream to depict. Even now, as the exotic hued mare navigated a path through the earthly labyrinth, she scrutinized the various pigments of the lush, jade leaves. Green: the color of envy. And it had every reason for jealousy! While it stayed rooted and stagnant where it grew, its inhabitants took for granted their mobility to wander to and fro underneath its protective canopy. While the forest’s fingers grasped upwards for a tasteless gulp of sunlight, the sentient creatures savored the flavor of the crisp, juicy vegetation in their mouths. Yet, in the throngs of its most vehement spite, the cacophony of emerald also signified wealth and life. Without the nourishment from the foliage, life could not thrive here. As much as the trees and the shrubs may resent the locomotion of its residents, a maternal love crept silently and watchfully. None could say that Mother Earth did not provide for her children.

In return, the children grew and learned from the ancient knowledge of the forest. They prospered from the rich gifts bequeathed upon them, and in return they protected the sacred Kingdom with their lives. Once upon a time, Cortana walked among that community. Back in the days of her greatness, she snuck in the shadows and wrangled in prisoners to exemplify the brilliance of her home; time and time again she met in battle and shed blood defending and honoring this land. Then she left, she left in the midst of one of the most crucial of times. Regret—she couldn’t deny its grasp over her, but what apology would relieve the pent up guilt that chained down her heavy conscience? She abandoned her rightful mother in the time that she was needed most, and now she returned with a quiet prayer that her weakness would be dismissed with the other acts of chaos that erupted throughout Hoof Prince. But would it be enough?

Her stoic company refused to surrender any hint toward repentance or condemnation, and very little life stirred abreast Nature’s humid womb. Cortana coaxed a soft breeze to carry her scent, it hopes that a familiar face may recognize it and investigate its source. Faces flashed randomly across her memory of the Sisters she held dearest—Alice, Sasha, Viriarus. Even those she met only briefly managed to wind their way to the surface: Paramour, Kitty, Shysie. How many remained where she had fled? She quickly discarded the thought before it could run amuck; after all this time, she couldn’t undo what she had done, and the matters she left for were important. Family business, one might say. The time for remorse came and went, just as the cycle of politics spins upon its unstable top. In her Valkyrie blood, Cortana felt the tension in the forest; something brewed beneath the calm exterior, and the former Headmistress did not plan to miss it.