He's lost track of how many years it had been since he last set a hoof within the Forsaken Valley, though he does remember that, when he had done so, he had still been a colt. Immortality and a lack of personal attachments did tend to make one lose track of time, after all. There's not much left that had the power to lure Ursus back here after so long, but hearing of Vampyric's return certainly qualified. She'd plucked him from the Adoption Den; she was the only family he'd ever had, cold though the white mare could be. He had just sort of drifted away from the Valley and Beqanna himself after she had disappeared, but here they both were again, or so it seemed. He just hoped that it was her alone that had resurfaced, and not Bjork along with her. From the very moment of their meeting, that spoiled female had disdained him, had belittled him as nothing but a pawn of her mother.

Oh, how he still hated her, would always hate her. But, enough time wasted on her. He flicks away any further thoughts of Bjork with a motion of his brown wing, drawing himself back to reality. The Valley looked much the same as he remembered, though no doubt the inhabitants were all unfamiliar faces to the bay stallion. He proceeds past the border area with care, seeking out spots that he recalled as being favorited by his mother. The first few areas turn up empty, but as he nears one a bit down his mental list, he spots a white, winged form in the distance. He squints, wondering for a moment if it is indeed her, but then calls out her name, figuring that the direct approach is best. If it somehow wasn't her, perhaps the horse in the distance would still know where she was. His dark eyes rest upon the other equine, waiting for them to approach him.