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She moves amongst the winter grounds in a slow stroll, an agenda was not mindfully kept nor was a destination in mind. The girls, Arete and Alivia, are currently safely tucked away in Taiga with their father and the rest of the band.  In the essence of nature, a soft smile touched the gold of her lips as she gazes and admires the beauty of the season.

Despite all of the changes that Beqanna had for them, Maribel had made her journey up the mountain and petitioned for her color changing to be restored. She stood at the mercy, exposed, vulnerable but genuine. The fairy had granted her petition with the faintest touch of a smile. This had made the young mare's heart burst in gratitude for her mercy. Mari would carry the tale of what had happen to Beqanna when it's residents grew too greedy, too demanding. But it is now that she walks in the solitude of nature, cloaked in white and gold, as the sky grays out and begins to sprinkle the lands with frosted droplets.

The sun grow heavy in the west when it has consumed it's fill of the frozen land, leaning to it's home like a booze-hound stumbling down the streets when the hour has grown too late. Maribel notes this quietly but it does not spur the mare to return home yet. There was a serenity to witness, a humbleness to shake the soul and restore the bits that were stolen in the essence of greed and assumption to rightful things that are not rights but actual privileges. Instead, Maribel allows the cold of the winter to cleanse her, to center her, to make her recount the privileges that the goddesses of Beqanna allowed for her and all equines alike.

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