Björn stands at the edge of the sands, the beach spreads out before him. A soft breeze blows in off of the ocean, it pushes his ebony dreadlocks off of his grulla neck. It was salty, bringing with it a spray from the ocean's surf. He closes azure eyes, he lets the lull of the surf, take him back to his days as a carefree colt on Tinuvel. His father is there, his mother too. They were happy, he sighs as he remembers the sweet soft voice of his mother. His father's laugh as watches his son trip over his own hooves. It was a warm summer day, one of a few, a few wildflowers dot the meadow. He had laid down in the grasses beside his grazing mother, the warm rays of the sun touch his fuzzy coat.

His eyes open, and finds himself still in the Forest, to much had happened since that day. He knows that his life will never be the same. He sighs then pivots away from the beach, and finds his way into a clearing. A stream trickles on the edge of the clearing, here he drops his pink lips to the water's bubbling surface. The water was clear, and cool, he drinks greedily. As he lifts his head from the water, he takes a step into the bubbling stream. The cool water flows around his ankles, with a sigh, he drops to his knees then to his side. He lets the cool water's flow around his body. It was enjoyable especially on a sweltering day such as this.

He hopes that these waters will float away his loneliness. There was still a chance for the son of the Pony King. He was not cursed to live his life in solitude, he hopes.