Under the old oak tree [Scythe]

[Hestia]

sweet as sugar, hard as ice.
if you hurt me once, i'll kill you twice.

She’s barely touched the land in her exploration. In the meadow, she has slipped through groups listening to their whispers and complaints, ran into a few friendly faces, and mostly been caught up on the action since her slumber. The land has changed immensely and the trails that lead from one place to another are fresh. The compact ground connects with her hooves as she takes her leave from the new meadow. A new curiosity awaits her; the black hag had heard whispers before she fell asleep that Demian was around in Taiga. If she could find her old friend. Her teeth pierce her tongue, hope is never a good thing, and she can’t afford to succumb to it now. Just go back to Nerine, this is silly. The voice taunts her angering the mare, she knows its silly. She will not find anything most likely. Still the old woman could never forgive herself if she doesn’t at least try.

It may take some time to get there, but really its on her way back to Nerine. So she really doesn’t have any excuse not to stop and check. That is another thing, she needs to find out the other kingdoms standing with Nerine, as she does with most of them. There are a few enemies, and if they have aligned themselves with others; would those kingdoms too be hostile towards a native Nerine? Or were the kingdoms more peaceful and centered around themselves than before. Horses don’t change much and if she had to guess, Hestia would say that grudges die hard. Green eyes tilt to the forked path, one leading towards the forest, and the other circles closer to the mountain.

She has yet to see the forest, maybe it would be best to do a little more exploring than originally planned on her way back. The day is ending and clouds loom overhead threatening; the trees would at least provide cover. Plodding past the various colors of new blooms, and green shoots she watches as new foals take their first steps, and mothers lay down to push out new life. Part of her cringes at the sight; her own twins coming to mind. Setting her jaw her brows tense, the thought sets her determination to see this through and the forest is the quickest way there. Thick branches black out the light, wafts of streaming golden glow are few and far between. The dark seems to be growing thicker; she had heard that there was a part of this place that is difficult to pass through. Some going as far to say that no one comes back from the heart of it.

The silence builds, and her resolve begins to shift uncomfortably in her chest. She is far from the souls that like to spend their days amongst the trees. The trails have faded until only remnants remain. It grows misty and the air thickens as tar in her throat. She snaps her tail irritated with herself. Get it together, the border to Taiga should be straight ahead, but something has her hesitating something isn’t quite right in this area of the forest. You’re dumb ass just had to get lost didn’t it? Even though the light here is low, she’s spent enough time among the trees to know that daylight as long past left the world of beqanna.

Hestia

@[Scythe]