Spring has begun to melt away the snow that had clung to the river’s edge all winter. Molech is thankful, finding that the cooler weather kept the forest lonesome and bare. He stands at the muddied bank, his gold-colored hooves touching the soft churn of the river’s frigid yet unfrozen waters. A mist has settled across the gray stones that frame the twisting river and the dark pines that etch towards the blue sky behind him, moving steadily as the sun’s warmth begins to burn whatever moisture still lies thick in the atmosphere.

He heaves a sigh and takes a single step forward, liquifying himself and falling into the river with an unceremonious plop, as if he had never been there in the first place.

The river takes him a bit further north and when the sun is directly in the center of the sky, Molech decides to emerge. He rises from the water without a show - coming from seemingly nowhere as he pulls himself onto the bank, water running down his shoulders and flanks in glistening rivulets, clustering to his wings like clear diamonds. He tosses his head, letting that movement trace down his spine, and then stamps a back hoof into the mud.

Life in the forest is lonesome and boring - he reaches out with his mind, attempting to find someone nearby to entertain him.