The birth of their son is a happy event that, for a while, chases away the shadows of what they lost, but Rowena can't forget Echo and her young grandson, never counted amongst the dead. Where are they? What happened to them? Are they safe, wherever they are?

For so long, Rowena is forced only to wonder. She is again a new mother, and caring for a newborn becomes her only priority. Walker Between Worlds is not a difficult child to care for. He has his own strange way of entertaining himself. He is more quiet and subdued than the other foals, but his safety is Rowena's top concern until he grows out of the unsteady legs of a newborn.

Rowena is thinking about how much Walker has grown. He has a lot of growing to do before he grows into his legs and into his long ears, but he is no longer a fragile young foal. The heavy muscling of a draft cross is beginning to take mass. The more he grows, the more he reminds Rowena of Vodnik by build. His fuzzy foal coat has shed, and in its place grows the sleek coat of a more mature horse. His tail hangs past his hocks, losing its juvenile bottle-brush look. At six months of age, he is eating more plant food than he is nursing.

It's time.

Rowena's lips draw into a warm smile at the stallion's affectionate touch. "Dances", she breathes, returning the affection with a nuzzle of her own. "It's okay." she answers. Rowena falls quiet then, wondering how to ask a burning question.

Walker turns his face to greet his father. The white on his face is stained with streaks of red. He's been rooting in a bush, eating the leaves, but ripe berries, yet uneaten by birds, leave trails of their juices across his fur. "Yeah, I slept great!" Walker proclaims. He winces as Rowena steps towards him and her rough tongue rakes the stains off his cheeks.

"Mom!, he whines, ducking away from her. Rowena sighs. Her little boy is indeed growing up. "If you won't let me do it, then you need to clean yourself up. You're a mess, Walker." Her orders are firm, reinforced by her stern expression. Walker rolls his eyes, but obediently rubs his face on his foreleg, scrubbing the stains off on his own.

The dark mare turns a solemn expression to her mate. "Dances." Rowena begins, sucking in a deep breath. "I would like to look for Echo. Walker is old enough now. We can ask Persephone or Evren to keep an eye on him while we look." Rowena's voice cracks with emotion. "I need to know where she is. I need to know if she's okay.