Evanthe listened curiously to the chorus of the mighty trees. The song they sang today, she believed she had heard before... but so long ago, so far away, so vague a memory as to feel more like deja vu that something solid and tangible to hold and examine; sand slipping through clenched fingers and dissolving into thin air. It was familiar because it was such a primordial melody, one that can only be sung by trees whom were alive one thousand years ago to have learned it. It rose and fell in intensity as they breathed the wind, sometimes reaching an incredible roar that shook the inhabitants of the forest to the bone. Such understated power in these souls, mused the mare. So much to tell, so many secrets and so much wisdom and yet they do not often speak it. Instead they sing, as though each second were an eternity and the lyrics are designed to be carried on forever.

Evanthe was so raptured by her new surroundings that she took far longer than she should have to notice the presence of another mare. She was a solitary soul and did not ever seek out the company of others. Quite eccentric perhaps, for a creature whose instincts would ordinarily tell them to find safety in numbers and remain with them at all costs; but Evanthe knew not different, she only truly knew the beginning of each new day and the never-ceasing ache in her soul that kept her moving onwards -- when she wasn't gazing up at the faces of the trees to see if she could spot their ending, that is.

It wasn't until the silver mare had paused to observe her from a few yards away that Evanthe returned her attention, startled by the sudden ghostly figure in her field of vision, and acknowledged her scent for the first time. Fear gripped her now; her social interactions were so limited and she preferred it that way. Safe, she thought. Safe from being restricted, safe from their unpredictability. She could wander as she pleased this way, uninhibited; find what it was that she was searching for. The mare was coming towards her now, and feeling rather like a small forest animal frozen in the decision of whether to run or stay put, Evanthe stood still and let her approach.

She carried with her the scent of many other horses, one distinctively male, and Evanthe then realised that this was not just a forest but a territory, and she'd run straight into the middle of it. Tension emanated from her, and at first she stood poised to flee, although she tried to conceal it, not fancying that she would like to be attacked today for wandering into another's territory and acting suspiciously wooden. So she pricked her ears forward and fixed them on the foreign mare, watching her and gently waiting.

So Vercingetorix was the stallion. Names really meant nothing to Evanthe, because she usually knew nobody, and was apt to forget those that she did by the end of the day. Arcus had been unusual indeed, because she remembered him for at least a week, and had willingly chosen to remain in his company during this time. If Evanthe was aware of this at the present moment, she might wonder why, but as she did not, she simply focused on the horse before her. She was silent at first after her question; perplexed it seemed by having to actually inwardly reflect on herself for a moment rather than blindly heading towards an unknown destination. Was she okay? Her mind darted back to the strange, ominous atmosphere outside the cover of the trees and felt her heart begin to make itself known in her breast. She did not want to go back out there, but also felt awkward standing here uninvited in the home of someone else.

"I think so... in here."

She watched the mare more carefully for a few moments, trying to find any clues that might indicate what kind of herd she came from. She was beautiful, her coat a kind of intricate paleness that reminded her of sea spray and moonlight. There was something about this mare and this forest -- a fair featured horse amongst ancient giants -- that struck again that frayed chord of familiarity within Evanthe's mind, but she couldn't begin to source how or why. Confusion was probably evident on her face while she realised this, and decided to speak again. The usual social dictations of polite conversation were not usually at the forefront of her mind, although no malice was intended. It was simply too chaotic, too centred on either travelling forward or trying to fill in the gigantic gaps that she was not even fully aware of, to be able to sit back and carefully consider obeying unspoken laws.

"Who are you? What is this place? It feels so familiar but I don't understand how. I have never been here before."


Andalusian; mare; bay; 4 years; 14.3hh