the dark fortress of a mare looks up the winding steep path and toward a small grassy outcrop with hard, chocolate eyes. Those stormy eyes widen in surprise at the hearty whinny that seemed intentioned for her. she doesn’t recognize the timbre immediately as macabre’s but when her eyes find the smaller chestnut she knows her friend instantly. joy usurps the anger and confusion and irritation that war in her mind and heart and she covers the rest of the distance between them with a renewed vigor. she thought she may never see the mare again and hadn’t caught up with wasp long enough to ask of macabre’s whereabouts.. it had become clear soon enough that she hadn’t been captive at the lagoon while Božena endured her own stay…

She issues her own greeting, a loud and full-hearted bellowing whinny that surprises even her…. this happiness at seeing her sister…or as much of a sister she would ever have now reminds her of her duty to the peak… what it stands for and why she is here. she acknowledges too, the young colt at macabre’s side, dipping her great head politely, hoping her size would not intimidate the child. her large hooves clatter against the rocks with satisfaction as the black thundercloud of a mare closes the last few strides between them and stops. her voice is strong and solemn when she answers the smaller chestnut figure. i am fine. i best the stallion cullen, just barely. i am happy to find you here. home.

her speech is concise, her english having somewhat improved since their last interaction so long ago. the exuberance she felt as she trotted toward them moments ago fades somewhat and she while she stands proudly against the mountainous backdrop she cannot totally mask her weariness. the exhaustion of the journey is apparent in the way she takes turns resting her tired legs, one of which seems particularly sore though luckily not permanently injured. her hooves had grown softer in the dank soggy landscape of the lagoon and she looked forward to re-acclimating her body to the hard steep cliffsides of home. part of her wants to ask how macabre had made it back but she still felt guilty, as if she had failed the mare and her daughter wasp by not getting her back of the peaks own accord. instead she casts her gaze further up the mountain,momentarily, wondering still, if kunžak waited there.