Zjeena should have hung back in Paradise, and helped Calypso with the large number of foals left behind, but she doesn't do well waiting idly by. Calypso is perfectly capable on her own, and now that Zjeena has found happiness with Rougaru and Monster, they are her greatest treasures. She must travel to Luthien and ensure their safe return.
The stout mare makes the swim to Luthien alone, several hours after her herd mates made the journey themselves. She pulls herself ashore, and shakes the sea water from her mane. The highest branches of the forest claw at the night sky, illuminated by only the softest of starlight. What should be a quiet night rings with the distant cries of war. Zjeena is suddenly overcome by a chill. The air is yet warm on this clear summer night, but the violence she hears chills her to the bone.
She steps with purpose into the shadow of the trees and lets the darkness swallow her whole. A steady march draws Zjeena ever nearer to the sound of fighting up ahead. She hears bodies crashing through the forest and small skirmishes breaking out all around her, but it's impossible to identify the shapes moving through the wood. Thick foliage and the deep darkness of the night obscure her vision. Zjeena's heart races in her chest. She hopes she finds Rougaru and Monster, and can come to their aid before she meets someone else along this dark and twisted path.
No sooner have these apprehensions crossed the young mare's mind, her fears are realized in a most startling way. Zjeena is focused forward, minding her step among the naked tree roots and damp leaf litter, when a sudden collision knocks her clear off her feet and forces the air from her lungs. She is thrown, into the trunk of a nearby tree, and finds herself in a heap at it's base. Zjeena is quick to right herself, fearing an attack. The rough bark of the tree left her shoulder bruised and bleeding. A hind leg, caught on a root as she was swept sideways will surely trouble her later, but adrenaline numbs her to all of it.
Her ears disappear under volumes of two-toned mane, and her eyes roll menacingly, the whites of them flashing in the darkness. She advances on her assailant with teeth bared. A strangled wheeze is the only sound she manages to produce, as her lungs struggle to reinflate.
Just as his face comes into focus, Zjeena sees his expression fall into confusion. She doesn't understand a word of what this stranger says, but his body language speaks clearly enough. They startled each other in the terror of the night, but they are not enemies.
Zjeena has no idea who he is, or if he speaks her language, but she has to try. "Who are you?" she blurts out, fully aware such an abrupt question without an introduction might be rude, but this is not the time for formalities, and she's not sure she can expect an answer anyways.