It is time to make her way. 

As it turns out, Brennen had been pretty bad at being a part of the Amazons, no matter what form they took. He had honestly tried, for the sake of his daughters and granddaughters and great-granddaughters, but when the need to wander had taken him, they’d all gone off to find whatever adventures there were to be found, and Bristol had of course gone with her father and the rest of their family pack.

As it turns out, Brennen was pretty good at raising daughters, and granddaughters, and great-granddaughters. And in addition to essential life skills, he taught her that she needed to have a life purpose. His was to be a great warrior and to raise all those descendants, but she needed to find her own purpose, and so did the rest of his little band, and so he’d brought them back to Beqanna, the only home he’d ever loved.

She breaks off from the rest of them, taking to the sky for a brief jaunt before landing in the Forest, deftly maneuvering to the ground between the towering trees. The crunch of the autumn leaves in under her hooves delights her and she prances and leaps in the clearing for a moment, sliding seamlessly from the big soaring hawk wings she was sporting for distance to bright, cheerful blue songbird wings for maneuverability close to the ground. 

When she has had her fill of crunching and playing in the leaves, the young mare folds her bright appendages against her glossy bay sides and walks forward under the trees, curious and looking for a task to do or a person to meet.