the shadow is not surprised when her silence is broken. nor is she surprised when it is broken by a winged horse. beqanna was home to the strange and unusual - her mother had been one, and aranea could be called one, too. though her uniqueness was not as obvious as that of the creature before her.

the wings seemed as if they had been set ablaze and for a long moment they were the only things to hold her attention. it was not until the words touched her mind that her gaze would shift to the face of the one who had joined her. once again she was not surprised - she had learned much of telepathy in her years here prior - but instead almost relieved

you can hear me, then? aranea directed her thoughts towards the mare and waited patiently for an answer. some could project but not read, though she sensed that that was not the case here. and finally she would be able to have a true conversation and perhaps learn some about the world she had returned to.

there is the slightest prickle - a niggle at the back of her mind - that told her she was not alone in her thoughts. it was not a deep intrusion (for surely she would feel more exposed if it was?) but it was enough. aranea exhaled with a sound similar to displeasure for though she welcomed the company she did not wish to feel naked in the presence of one who was a stranger.

i have known others like you. telepaths, magicians, mind-readers - i am familiar with this form of communication. it had been her only means of doing so for many years.

the later question was a little more tricky and she found her darkened lips to purse ever so slightly. she considered the question, weighed it, and then found the words to reply. i cannot say. many years. i did not count them. they had no meaning, those years. they were empty and isolated and though she found contentment with her own company it was not enough to be meaningful.

i am aranea, by the way. in case it mattered.