The light had returned.

And with it, so had the stirrings of life.

Even in Pangea - in the place that so many considered a barren wasteland - even the country that the Dark God had crafted, had come alive again. The acacia trees had sprouted leaves again. Small patches of earth had yielded green grazing grounds. The sun shone and for once in her short life, Aela didn't mind allowing something to glow brighter than her.

For a time, this was enough for the striped girl.

But Aela is no more able to stay still than the sun is. Just like its rise and fall, the palomino had begun to look at the horizon and wonder how the rest of Beqanna fared. (Not for their benefit but hers; to remain unaware was a disadvantage that her grandmother had always cautioned her against.) So the days dawned and the world warmed. What might have been spring turned into a sweltering summer in Pangea and Aela slipped quietly from the borders of her canyon home on a rather bright morning that told her that there was too much promise to wait for.

So she goes searching for it.

That's when the first whispers had reached her golden ears. With the return of the light had been the return of others; horses that had ventured to the Mountain and found a way to bring the sun back. It was interesting but what held her interest more were the rumors of what the North was doing. It would seem that their leader was throwing open the borders and letting the rest of the world in.

Aela shouldn't.

Oh, she shouldn't but there is a flicker of defiance in her breast. Another voice tells her she should and this is the one that the young mare follows. It takes her towards the North, past the Taigan Redwoods, and towards the jagged Nerinian coastline of the kingdom that Heartfire once ruled. There are no wings against Aela's side so as she gazes across the gray ocean, she frowns. The Isle hosts a festival with no way to get visitors across?

How very like the Northerner's, she thinks with an aggravated flare of her nostrils.

If there are any festivities to be had, they will find a way to keep it all to themselves.

Her invitation comes in the shape of a young filly, silver-black and blue-eyed and smiling openly at Aela. The palomino has been a great mimic from the beginning so she beams back at the girl. Lilliana's lost daughter asks the other, "Forgive me, but I'm trying to get to the Isle for the festival." And because the other is entirely her mother's daughter, Roselin smiles at the sibling she doesn't know is hers. "Come," says the younger girl and leads her towards the Taigan border where a portal had been crafted for the forest-dwelling residents. The magic that surrounds them is overwhelming and wonderful and intoxicating; the lovely smile that Aela gives the stranger is genuine when they are whisked to the frozen shore of the Isle.

"Thank you," she says to the filly before departing and leaving her behind.

Her blue eyes glance across the frozen landscape (and Aela isn't aware of how much she looks like Lilliana, the mother she has never known), lingering on the horizon. She is golden and blue-eyed and smiling when she turns her blazed head to look behind her, playing the part of merry-making instead of the mischief that she envisions. "I don't know where to start," she tells the approaching stranger with a breathless laugh. "Any suggestions?"

The bright smile on her blazed face fades as soon as the Magician speaks her name.

(Aela has spent enough time in the company of horses like Eight and Straia and Beyza to know Magic when it grazes across her golden skin, when it picks and prods at her mind.) The young mare doesn't quite scowl but she had hoped to attend this event without being recognized. Ah, well. If wishes were horses -

Well, she thinks. Perhaps they are.
She hasn't completely dismissed this excursion yet.

"Home?" she asks the bay roan. "I haven't lived in the North for some time." Her expression does shift then and the palomino nearly purrs the words: "though I'm flattered you still remember me."

Her blue eyes trace over his shape (because every memory is an opportunity and a meeting with a dragon is one she doesn't intend to waste) and the young mare tilts her face to his, a picture of innocence.

Sensing the way that he tries to figure her out - (Pangea, hmm?) - and glancing at the ice maze, Aela's smile turns radiant. He could take it from her- her memories, her thoughts. That is always the upper-hoof with Magicians. But most have spent at least a century with that kind of absolute power and if there something that Aela has gleaned about the Immortals is that even absolute power becomes dull.

"How about this," she offers to the Freyr, willing to play the spark. A dimple forms in her left cheek and Aela peers up at him from beneath her flaxen forelock. "You could accompany me to the maze," she explains with a playful blue gaze, "and for every dead-end we find, I'll answer your questions. For every reflection we get caught in, you tell me something of you."

Aela hadn't quite thought that a Magician would be so willing to agree to her proposition but here she is, taking a few measured steps towards the ice maze with the Freyr of the entire North as her companion. It wasn't an entirely bad start to her time here and even if this festival lacks the entertainment that Aela is seeking, something in her thinks that the Dragon Lord might compensate well enough.

"Did you?" she counters with a bemused expression to Leilan when he boasts that he had built the ice maze. It's not an easy feat but not entirely daring, she thinks, for a land surrounded by it.

But Aela leads easily enough because she has never been the kind of mare keen to follow anyone. If anything, the way she steps out in front of the bay roan attests to this. The palomino is accustomed to others following her and her confident stride speaks louder than anything she might have said.

The first few rounds of the maze doesn't reveal much; a dead-end comes quicker than she anticipated. However, Aela had made a deal and she expects Leilan to keep his end of the bargain so she must keep hers. When they reach the first blocked path, the gold-striped girl glances at the draft stallion. Her expression is not an amused one but Aela lifts her head and gives what she has agreed to. "I chose Pangea because it was nothing like the North," she explains to Leilan. She feels like that is enough of an explanation for the dragon-shifter so that she doesn't need to add that her nurse-mother has taken up residence there. That Pangea is where Beyza and Kensley live and so it makes the canyon territory feel the most like home for Aela.

They turn around and travel through a few more paths until a plane of smooth ice is revealed. An image of the scaled stallion and the young mare turns her blazed face towards the Freyr, beaming at their reflection as her blue eyes catch it. She makes this still seem like such a silly game when she asks, "tell me something about you nobody else knows."

Aela doesn't remember much of @[Leilan] (though he shouldn't take offense to that, she barely remembers anybody outside of Kota and Heartfire from her time in the North). What she does remember are those few terrifying moments - when she had still been young enough to feel fear - of his bronze scales glinting overhead the Taigan forest, of the beat of his large dragon-wings as he attempted to land somewhere in the Redwood forest. These had become a few of her more favorite memories - ones she used to terrifying monsters and innocents alike.

But when he is made of simply horseflesh, the palomino finds there is little to be terrified of.

When he admits to liking her, Aela turns her head to peer up at the Northern Lord. "Well," she murmurs with a small smile, "what isn't there to like?" It deepens a little, revealing the dimple that she shares with her birth mother. "Lovely, intelligent, -" her blue eyes seem to share the impish glint of their current conversation, "and humble." Aela tells him and then turns her attention to finding the next mirrored panel. A delicate ear flicks towards him as she continues to walk ahead, waiting to see if the draft stallion might have something to add.

It's the question that she's been trapped into that stops her.

She contemplates lying. It wouldn't be the first time for Aela. The end always justifies the means with her. And if she had to lie to gain something, she might have. But their deal had been to speak the truth. And that gnaws on her in some way - settles somewhere between her ribs and her heart - that they had made an agreement. She might call on him, someday, she thinks. He is a Dragon and therefore powerful; having his favor might be useful.

Really, everything was in his clutches, if his talons were willing to reach for them.

So with a sigh and a stop, Aela's expression turns cold, much like the ice they were surrounded by. "I was looking for someone," she admits, the only time that she has ever spoken aloud that Aela is searching for Skandar. Her blue eyes fix on a plane of ice that reveal nothing, not even her reflection (and how there is very much a mortal-like emotion of ire burning through her veins when she says this). "Pathetic," she deems of herself, while her pretty mouth purses into a line of disapproval. "To be looking for someone who doesn't want to be found."

When a reflection doesn't manifest along the wall she peers at, an ear flicks towards Leilan and then Aela glances at the Freyr. There isn't a mirror along this panel but she asks anyway (because among dragons and mortals and men alike, they are all her equal so she is entitled to question the Northern King): "why did you throw this Festival?"