After her visit to Tinuvel, Freya had returned to Luthien with Bjorn in tow, eager to be home after such a journey. Of course the Forest herd had welcomed her warmly back into their home. Things were peaceful, for awhile. Until one day, Persephone left for the Commons to answer the call of a challenger, and never came home. For days, Freya fretted upon the mare's absence, worried things had gone sideways for her in the heat of battle. Eventually her worry was quelled when the bay mare returned, bruised from the battle that had taken place. But the queen did not come bearing good news, and had soon left to serve her time under the king Warsaw.

Simply hearing his name sent shivers down Freya's spine. He had come to challenge for her, Persephone had said. It seemed he truly was intent on making her his. In the back of her mind, the old mare wondered if she should have simply accepted his offer to return to Tinuvel. Perhaps she would have spared Persephone the trouble of protecting her. Still, it was too late to worry about that now. Life could only move forward.

For weeks, the former matron patrolled the borders of the Forest, intent on keeping her home safe in Persephone's absence. But at the back of her mind, a little voice nagged her. Go back, it said, you don't truly belong here. And she knew it was right. The Forest would never truly be her home, no matter how badly she might wish for it to be. Tinuvel was the only place for her, and with her twilight years upon her, Freya refused to live her life the wrong way.

And so she left for Tinuvel again, thinking back to the last time she was on the frigid island. Zevulun had seen her off at the border of the Inlet with little more than a few flirtatious words and a smile. She hadn't been expecting to return to the Bay after her visit to the Inlet, but like a moth to a flame, she was drawn back. There was something about the way Zevulun welcomed her, the way he had been so open and warm and genuine.

It had been a long time since anyone had managed to make her feel whole again, to ignite the spark inside her shadowed heart. Since the day Dogun had disappeared, she had not felt such emotions stirring inside her. Perhaps she had never allowed herself to. After so many years without so much as a flutter from within, she had expected any hope of finding true affection was long gone.

If it weren't for the constant, steady thrum of blood inside her veins, she might wonder if her old heart was even still there. When she had shared her time, her thoughts and her body with him, something deep in her tired soul stirred. Perhaps there was hope for her yet. Maybe it wasn't too late to dust the cobewebs from her chest and polish the dust from her heart and truly start over. She thought she had, when she had returned to the Islands, made a home with Persephone, and given birth to Baldr. But as she stood at the edge of the Bay once more, she knew she had been wrong.

And she wasn't about to let this opportunity pass her by. Even if Zevulun couldn't give her what Dogun had, to be home again was enough. There were no more excuses for her to hesitate or wonder what could go wrong, and she wasn't about to spend her twilight years worrying her pretty head about every little thing. A deep breath in, a deep breath out, and then she was ready. With her son at her side, she took her first steps back to Tinuvel, unsure of what awaited her on the island she had once called home.