He wore the forest well.

In the spring and the summer, when the light was strong, there was something comforting in the way the trees both gave him shade and let the light through. Even now, as what snow that did make its way through the branches littered the ground, he found something calming in the way there was a sort of pregnant silence amongst the roots.

Vercingetorix was not alone long, for the woman finds him quickly- no doubt following him from the ocean into the belly of her forest. For this he does not fault her. The Forest was something worth protecting, with its shadows and its ghosts. He could smell people here, like a musty afterthought, pressed up against the wood and stinking up the whole place.

He didn’t mind- this place deserved to be enjoyed.

“I used to live here.” He surrenders, knowing there was no point in lying beneath the scrutiny of the roan’s eyes- and yet he had no reason to lie. “You have taken good care of her.” As did he, so he would have liked to think. Once upon a time ago it had been his children whose laughter warmed the belly of the forest, and once upon a time ago he had taken the place of the strange woman before him, watching the borders and keeping out intruders.

For that, already, he respects her, lowering his head and allowing her to assert her dominance, even if she did not want it. “My name is Vercingetorix.” Long ago, he would have been the red beast that chased off unwanted visitors, and perhaps it is in Persephone’s right to treat him as a vagrant and a trespasser. “I only wanted to come home.”