"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
She took her time leading Mizaria to the Valley. There was no need to rush, and it gave Topsail an opportunity to point out other kingdoms borders and other landmarks as they passed them. The mare was clearly new to Beqanna, and it wouldn’t do for a Valley member to accidentally wander over the borders of another kingdom. Given her kingdoms past history, it was better for everyone if they kept to themselves unless formally invited. Mizaria had accepted her offer almost eagerly, a fact that thrilled the grulla Queen. Uninspired beings were nothing more than wastes of breath and grazing area, and Topsail wasn’t one to tolerate idleness. She was intent on getting her kingdom to the top once more, and it wouldn’t do to have idle equines doing nothing more than taking up space.
The closer they got to the Valley, the steeper the ridges became. They rose and fell sharply, their jagged peaks reaching for the sky above them. “Just a bit further.” Topsail murmured, throwing her head forward and down as the began the last leg of the journey. Finally, when the forest had thickened an become almost impenetrable and the air had thinned with altitude, they were there. The bordering edges of the Valley. The residents lived down in the proverbial bowl of the Valley, but the best view was up here on the ridges. From here, one could see the ever lasting fog rolling thick from the opposite ridge. Like the forest, it was a force all of its own. The sun had little power here, though it always tried its best to filter through the mist. Topsail admired the strength of the fog, how relentless it was when taking what it wanted. With a smile, she turned to Mizaria. “Here she is. The Valley. Welcome home.” With a nod towards the path, she stepped aside to let the black mare lead the way.
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Where are you now? Another dream.
The monster's running wild inside of me,
I'm faded.
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Topsail was quick to lead Mizaria from the falls, but they stretched out their journey just enough so that Mizaria could have a 'grand tour' of the borders of lands. Quickly Mizaria learned whom to stay away from and whom she could show favor towards, but to never enter lands unless invited. This of course was something Mizaria had not planned on doing. Coming from a land herself where trespassers were killed, Mizaria had no intent on dying, not at barely 3 years at least. The moved in no particular hurry, but Mizaria was eager to see her new home and would often times invite her new queen to a short burst of galloping, before they slowed so she could be shown another landmark or border. Mizaria took it all in, her curiosity about the lands being fed more and more.
Their journey hadn't been overly long, but by the time the pair had reached the ridge Mizaria was glad for the brief rest. Her dark eyes surveyed the land below them, taking all that was her queen's in. Yes. She could get used to this. Thick forests like those from back home, mountains curling around them, keeping their secrets safe from prying eyes and ears. Yes, this would do Mizaria good indeed. "You've found yourself quite the kingdom."
Mizaria eventually settled upon saying, her head moved to look towards where the grulla queen stood beside her, and then Topsail moved aside and motioned for Mizaria to take the lead down a trail into the depths of the valley. Mizaria did not need asking twice and made her way ahead of her queen as she set the past at a steady and powerful trot, her hooves striking the earth like sticks to a drum. Her neck arched ever so slightly as she felt the freedom of moving through vegetation she felt she could connect with.
It was almost like being taken back to her great great grand-dam's domain. The black mare, of which Mizaria had inherited most her looks from was one of myth, of the stories mothers told their children to keep them from straying too far. The one stallions prayed would not come and haunt them that night. Mizaria had always been awed by the stories her father told her, and the others who had anything to say of her relative. Often times Mizaria would dream of being just like her, and sometimes she'd even express this desire, to only be met with a laugh and words telling her it is but myth, no one actually knows if the mare actually lived. But Mizaria knew better. Mizaria knew her great great grand-dam had been real, and that the name she carried was after that mare.
