They said life was a dance he'd forgotten the steps. He roved strange lands, searching for something he wasn't even certain still existed. He could almost hear her tinkling laughter in his head and threw himself forward, limbs outstretched to outrun the ache in his chest. The snow crunched beneath him and the his eyes cast toward the sky, waiting for the clouds to part and for it all to be a bad dream. He'd slowly been going mad and he knew of no way to cling to his sanity. Another laugh and he found himself slowly and turning, wild eyes searching for a ghost and spying nothing along the waters edge. His heart thundered and he swore he could almost smell her on the cold winter wind. It was all a lie though; a trick the world was playing on him. He found himself growling, the sound rising from his chest as though he were more predator than equid.

He sucked in the cold air, searching still for that scent, still knowing it didn't exist. The hairs along his cannons danced as he shuffled around like a madman, scanning for something real to lay his eyes on. He searched again, nostrils flaring wide, drinking the cold air as if it were a balm. A myriad of scents broke the madness and he realized he was in owned territory. He willed himself to swallow the slur that had been set to tumble from is multi-colored lips. He gathered his wits and forced his breaths to come more evenly. He stood tall and cast his gaze about, searching for the freshest scent and honing in on it.

Perhaps it was foolish, but Varsuvius was not the sort to trespass and wait for someone to find him. He would find them, first. So his head tilted to the sky and picked the scent. A female. That might have excited another beast, but not he. He would follow the scent to her and learn what he could of these strange new lands he'd found himself in. His actions would have been questionable to any stallion worth their grit. Lately, though, Varsuvious hadn't been thinking clearly or acting normal. He didn't care to linger on why, as if he had a choice in the matter. It had barely been a month since he'd gone out searching for his mate and found her lifeless near a bear den at the edge of the territory they'd call home. It had barely been a month since the realization had hit that he'd lost the only thing he'd held dear. Now he stood in unfamiliar territory and trespassing o less. Varsuvius... trespassing.

He chuckled to himself, as he began his trek toward the owner of the scent. It was more one of derision than of humor. He was losing his baring and it was an insult to every moral bone in his body. If he thought he'd be welcomed after trespassing, he was most likely sorely mistaken. Still, he'd not wait around to be chased off. Let them know that he at-least tried to salvage a bit of honor from his careless mistake. He continued forward, his movements almost casual in his disregard for the future consequences he might be in for. He held little care for what happened to himself these days and he wasn't going to start caring now. He pushed through the snow until his ears tipped at the sound of crunching hoofsteps and he cast his eyes in the direction, seeking the owner.