Through the heather and bracken, he comes. Flaxen mane whipping against his neck as another strong gust of wind whirls past him. Returning to the Gates holds no regret yet there is still a distance between himself and the kingdom and it’s subjects. There is no blame, he understands. They are busy, they all have a purpose and most hustle and bustle and get their work done. Meanwhile he drifts about, not quite knowing what to do or where to go. A flicker of inspiration brings him here to the meadow which is where he now watches a mare struggle to stand like a newborn foal.

It seems to take a few attempts for her to become sturdy and gain her bearings. By that time he has already started making his way towards her. A soft whinny given to alert her that he was coming, concern reflected in those dark gold flecked eyes. ”Are you ok?” He asks, his voice raspy but polite. His vocal chords had laid dormant in the time it had taken him to return to Beqanna. He needed more social interactions if it was ever to return to the husky deep baritone it had once been. Velvet muzzle reaches out, his neck extended, to lay a calming caress on her shoulder as he continues to look at her with worry and waits patiently to see if she needs his help.

When she shys from his touch he instantly throws back his own head, nostrils flared as he takes a step back and dances lightly on front hooves, unsure for a moment. ”I’m sorry.” He quickly apologizes, keeping some distance from her now to make up for his intrusiveness. Ears swivel forward, tilting his head slightly as his brow furrows. Her voice was strange, pleasing and lilting. An accent he hadn’t heard before despite his many wanderings and adventures. She smiles but he can still see the uncertainty in her eyes and his own must reflect the same thing. Flecks of gold catch in the remaining rays of sunlight as he offers an encouraging smile of his own, determined to start anew.

”I’m Ledger. Sorry again for startling you…” A brief pause as his tangled and matted tail brushes lightly against his haunches. He had yet to have that bath he had been thinking about, still in dire needs of some sort of grooming. ”You’re not from here are you?” Instantly he makes a face of chagrin. ”That sounded rude. I mean you just seem a little lost…. And I’ve never heard an accent like yours before.” Quickly he shuts up, thinking maybe he has completely offended her. Talking to womenfolk had never been his strong suit let alone trying to help a damsel in distress as she seemed to be.

Relaxing at her smile, realizing she is not in the least bit offended. ”Where did you go on your strange adventure?” His interest is genuine, being quite the wanderer himself. It’s nice, being in her company. The way she laughs and easily talks to him makes him feel comfortable, something that he doesn’t often feel. She is an interesting thing, doesn’t seem to sure in her own skin. Yet she knows this place, says she grew up here. ”So where do you call home then?” He doesn't want to pry too much into her past, doesn’t want to intrude somewhere he might not be wanted. The thought crosses his mind that maybe if she was born here that they may have crossed paths at some point. He always likes to dwell on things like this, when he watches the others in the meadow and wonders on a strangers life. Wonders if they have shared the same space before and never realized it.

The words she speaks are cryptic and sound like gibberish. Hands? Fingers? He has no idea what these things are and can’t connect them to any object he has ever encountered. No images can be conjured, he had never met a human in his life despite all the places he had traveled. Perhaps that had been a blessing, humans can cause so much destruction even with the best intentions in mind. Although he can’t comprehend some parts of her adventure, there are others he gets. The mention of zombies, dead horses had risen in BQ before so he knows the terror behind that. And surviving…. That he knows all too well.

A slight grin is given at her enthusiasm as she reminisces on where she had been. ”I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone call survival tactics fabulous before.” The grin wavers slightly then, recalling his own encounters of struggling to stay alive. He had fought for his life the moment he had been born. The second Chernobyl had stumbled upon mother and newborn son on the beach and cruelly ripped her away from him…. His entire life had been tainted in grief and fear because of that one event. Knowing who his father was and never able to go to him for help because if he did, he would die. It had been a horrible way to live and only his will to survive had brought him to where he was today.

Once he dredges up the memories, it’s sometimes hard for him to shake them. It takes him a second to realize she’s smiling at him and speaking again. ”I know how that is. I recently returned myself.” He replies gently, having been homeless for so long. It was rather hard to get use to a daily routine, having a place to always go back too. Adjusting. Yes, he was certainly still adjusting. ”So what do you think.. Do you prefer this world or the other?”

A sheepish grin spreads on soft lips, shaking his head no in response to her question. ”No, unfortunately the jungle has not been the destination of any of my adventures.” He laughs though, a gentle roll of his shoulder as he shrugs and offers her another grin. ”But I suppose I’ll have to get on that now.” The happiness doesn’t last long as she submerges them both back in the conversation of survival. Every bad memory is drudged up, memories he want’s to forget, longs to forget. It’s confusing, how she speaks of safety. There was no safety here, not any he had been able to find and hold on to. The flecks of gold in his warm brown eyes no longer sparkle, they darken and he seems to stop breathing. Feeling as if he has been submerged under water, choking on the fear that those bad memories bring with them. ”Safety is not easy here, there’s no such thing that exists here.” He mumbles mostly to himself, forgetting that she’s even there. His words are heavy and dark, unlike himself. Even in the Gates, where all is calm and peaceful, he can’t find solace. He can’t sleep. Even though he has come home, he has nothing. Her muzzle grazes his shoulder and he whips his head up, turning to look at her as his body shudders from her touch. Whatever is etched in his face suddenly melts away, returning back to normal. ”I’m fine.” Shaking his head to free himself of any lingering nightmares, for now he can escape from them. Once night falls it’s a different story but for now… For now he can pretend.

The worry is still in her eyes and he tries to force a thin smile to his lips and focus on what she’s asking him. ”I’m not quite sure. I feel like I’ve been almost everywhere and back.. Everywhere but the jungle that is.” Rough laughter, almost as if nothing had happened. It threatens to return when she mentions her family but he holds onto that smile (more like a grimace at this point) as he reluctantly admits, “At least you have a family.” He is stubborn, holding onto his terrible childhood and the pain and torment like a dog with a bone. It’s all he has, all he has known. How could it ever be any different? ”Kind of why I left.” It’s the first time he’s said that out loud. A first step perhaps. ”But the Gates has been good to me. Letting me come back and all.”