The moon-coloured mare doesn't sleep much these days. She's not feeling tired about it or anything; but she's tense. She's heard by now about Lamb's dishevelled arrival, about Sylva. She's seen what it has done to Sabra - stepping down and suddenly seeing your former kingdom crumble and die and become an evil that festers, that spreads - it sounds horrible and she can forgive the woman for taking it personally, even if nothing could have helped her foresee this happening.

No, but, she Ilma is on edge. With Loess and Sylva to their southern borders, suddenly letting Tähti away for a year to be in Nerine seems not so bad. They have more warriors there and, truth be told, perhaps that is safer for now. Restlessly, the winged female walks the nights, while her daughter sleeps. Innocence is bliss, is it not? At daytime, the white woman takes more summer-sun naps to keep up; it is at those times that the black filly races around the place. Sometimes Ilma thinks that is not a good thing; but the girl is growing up and although she is her firstborn, still she knows there must come a time of detachment, so she simply agrees with these terms for now.

This night, when she spies movement at the southern border, it is no surprise that she takes flight - faster than running and with much less trouble, she nears them. They hardly notice her - for one, not many horses look up, but secondly, they look tired and restless. Refugees, then.

She lands quickly, and welcomes them softly but warmly. "You've reached Hyaline, the sanctuary. I am Ilma." She almost forgets her new title. "Ambassador. Please, come in and be welcome. Would you tell me your names and the reason for this trip to be at night?" It looks like they've travelled far and fast, at least, for those on foot. She addresses the male, because he seems to be the one leading them if she's not mistaken.