The cold revitalizes his weary bones.
He’s battled exhaustion every day since he returned from the land of the dead with one of its inhabitants. The guilt had pulled at his mind, but the journey itself had drained his body, left him a husk of the man he’d been before. It was going against all the laws of nature, he knew. Wrynn had been right years ago in the Meadow; she’d tried to warn him against his desire to blur the lines of death and life even further than Carnage had made them. It hadn’t worked, of course. Ramiel’s curiosity was a deep well dug into his very soul. He couldn’t stay away from the Other Side any more than he could stop the beating of his own heart. And hadn’t he succeeded in some small way? Wasn’t the corpse girl proof enough of what he could do?
It had taken a toll, but it was a price he was willing to pay.
He’s mostly restored as he leaves the Dale this cold winter day. It’s an easy trip (anything is, compared to melting into the afterlife and all its effects) that’s he’s taken plenty of times. Unfortunately for him, it is also a trip he’s taken back alone plenty of times, having failed at his recruiting attempts in the past. Too many horses were too quickly swayed by promises of power elsewhere. The Dale is different, he knows. In its recent history, the once-neutral kingdom was focused only on its family values. He understands the need to foster good relations between the herdmates, but he also understands that, as their only selling point, they couldn’t hope for much in the way of numbers.
Ramiel wants to tweak the formula without losing their feeling of family; he needs only to learn how best to phrase it.
Snow covers much of the flat expanse, including the backs of the gathered horses. Most look about them with searching eyes – desperate to find somewhere, anywhere away from the harsh realities of the homeless grounds. The greyed stallion wants to bring them all to the mountain kingdom, but knows it isn’t realistic. He’ll be lucky enough to find one willing follower on such a blustery day. His feet sink into the powder as he moves towards one forlorn stallion. The buckskin paws at the ground, trying to uncover some sort of sustenance, Ramiel figures, but he’s heart isn’t in the motion. The ghost-man is about to call out when a motion catches his gaze. The snow moves. A big pile of it shifts, but upon closer inspection, he realizes it is only a mare burying herself within it.
He changes course, heading her way instead. Another mare beats him to the punch. She’s big and red and ridiculously nice in her tone and manner. He likes her immediately, though at the same time, he’d never take the same approach. She tries to comfort the burrowing mare, telling her of the oncoming spring and all its trappings: the birds and sun and flowers. Ramiel wonders if it’s too much. He nods at the tall woman before looking back at the white mare. “I wouldn’t advise staying there too long, either. You’ll freeze to death in this weather.” And I don’t fancy finding you on the Other Side when you do, he thinks to himself but doesn’t add out loud. “I’m Ramiel, he says to both of the women, his face neutral in response to the situation. The girl seems to be having some sort of crisis. He wants to help, so he offers it in the only way he can think of. “Spring is a ways off, still. If you need shelter now, I can take you to the Dale.”
r a m i e l
what a day to begin again