It was not winter when she’d left, but when she fell through the rift in the cave, she had come to again knee-deep in water as icy as any she’d ever experienced in the Tundra, the beach had been locked in the depth of winter. But it was her beach again, and she breathed in the salty air with a sense of relief, glad to be home, to be herself again.

But was she truly herself again? Even before she opens her eyes Kellyn can feel the difference – she can feel them at the edges of her consciousness, whispering, and can see them from the corners of her vision, and she knows. The ghosts of the underworld will not truly leave her; they are as much a part of her now as the fabric of time itself. Shaking her head, she looks around, glad to see the others emerging, noting their faces for later consideration (it seems the youngest of them have done the best – Nihlus and Wrynn and Ramiel; Kellyn and Rhy are the only true adults amongst them) but she does not stay to speak to them.

She runs instead, stopping only when she has reached the snow-covered Field, exhaustion burning in her limbs and her throat dry and aching. A part of her wants to turn North, to flee back to the protective gaze of her grandfather and the Brothers, but she is not the same girl who left to follow Carnage’s mad call. Someday she will return, to tell Brennen of those who miss him, but now she does not want to go back to the only home she has ever known. Instead she lowers her head gratefully to the cool water of the stream, and tries to decide where to go. She cannot go to the non-mythical Kingdoms; she has no interest in losing a power, old or new. They are a part of her, ingrained. The Valley has a certain call to her soul, an appeal, but even now Bethanie’s wary voice rings in her ears ‘You are not your mother’s daughter…yet.’ She knows that the ghosts would not approve of the Valley. But the Deserts - ‘You look like her, you know.’ Does she look enough like Elite to be rejected in the Deserts? Would they know?

She doesn’t know what the right choice is.

She raises her head to the enthusiastic approach of another mare, offering a nod though she does not speak at first, though when there was a pause she offers, “I’m Kellyn.” The other mare is bright and almost enough to bring Kellyn to a response, but she is nothing compared to the fire that is Zilpah. The strawberry girl can’t help but smile in response to the appearance of her old friend, however brief their acquaintance had been. Zilpah and Kreios had been kind, even her very short meeting of Yael had been relatively pleasant, but it had not been enough to hold her to the Deserts.

Perhaps the Tundra had not been ready to let her go, or perhaps she was not ready to leave home then.

“Zilpah,” she says the greeting with a gentle laugh, her eyes flicking to watch Malka’s reaction to her hyper-active friend. In her opinion, it will say a lot about the mare if she takes Zilpah in stride. When the Deserts girl has introduced herself to Malka and fallen silent, Kellyn looks from one to the other again. “I had family things to attend to,” she says to Zilpah, though she does not elaborate. Let them think it was a Tundra matter, with her father or her grandfather or even her absent brother. She does not want to explain that she went on a crazy mission for her maternal grandfather that she is still not sure was entirely real.

Malka had asked a question also, and as much as she would like to listen quietly to the two of them, she knows that will get her nowhere. Speaking is part of polite society, as she’s learned. “I am from the Tundra,” she explains to the Jungle woman. “And as welcome as family makes me, there is nothing permanent for me there.” Kellyn has no idea that she is technically niece to the son Malka thinks so fondly of – she has steered clear of most visitors to the Tundra, including Malka and her son, for as long as she can remember. Part of Cagney’s plan to keep her identity a secret. The little mare was always blissfully unaware of the cold – it is nothing to the Tundra’s winter, and even further from the cold that had been space.

“I don’t know much about the Jungle.” Her green eyes travel back and forth from one to the other again, settling on Zilpah. “And how fares the Deserts since I was there? Is Yael still Queen?” Yael had been nice, but almost too nice. It had put Kellyn on edge, waiting for the other side to show. Everyone had another side.

They speak of the Jungle first – and unlike the Deserts, this is a place Kellyn hasn’t been. She’s skirted the edges, curious, but never in the same time-continuum as the living, and never when she might encounter another living being. It had been hot and humid, but bursting with the smells of life. Flowers and animals and birds she didn’t recognize; dense and green and unlike anywhere else she’d ever been. Malka speaks of opportunities there, refers to the Jungle women as Sisters in the same way Brennen has always referred to his companions as Brothers. Her father has never addressed the other Tundra men that way – he has always been there, but yet apart from them.

Kellyn fears being that piece of the Jungle that her father is of the Tundra – not quite belonging, for one reason or another. Exploring the Jungle would be a grand adventure, and the chance to belong to a tight knit group intrigues her. To be part of something as completely as Brennen is of the Tundra – nearly inseparable, as if they do not exist independently – is a thought that causes a moment of hope to swell in her chest. But she knows that she wouldn’t be able to hold a thing forever – not even if it filled her heart with belonging. And the Jungle, like the Tundra, is forever. Still, she smiles at Malka, and if it’s sad for something she’ll never have, probably no one will notice.

Zilpah takes up the thread of conversation, and a part of Kellyn is relieved that Yael is no longer Queen. The golden monarch had been kind to her – but a part of Kellyn always wondered if the mare would suddenly realize who she was, and change her mind. If she’d known that Yael already knew who she was, perhaps she might not have ever returned to the Tundra in the first place.

Never have been called by Carnage.

Never have seen space and time in a whole new way.

“My family will be fine.” she smiles at Zilpah, “And I have seen Rigdon, though not very recently. Perhaps he is away on business. The Tundra has had much upheaval recently.” She’d never spoken to Rigdon, because she rarely spoke to the Brothers, but surely it hasn’t been that long since she’d seen him around? She doesn’t want to worry her friend. The Deserts has its own set of dangers – but it isn’t the same ‘forever’ that plagues the Jungle. And it isn’t a Kingdom that the ghosts will disapprove of – she won’t have aunt Bethanie haunting her about becoming her mother, which she is sure would happen if she went to the Valley. And maybe – maybe it’s meant to be. For her to right some of the wrongs her mother perpetrated on the Deserts by serving there. The wrongs her mother supposedly perpetrated on the entirety of Beqanna.

A small part of her wishes she’d had time to ask Carnage about it. Surely he remembers.

“Both of your offers are intriguing.” Kellyn finally says quietly. “And someday I hope to see the Jungle – I am sure it is beautiful. But I feel like I have unfinished business from my first trip to the Deserts.” A lopsided smile here, towards Malka, sorry that she has wasted the woman’s time. “I guess I failed the first time I tried to live in the Deserts, but that feels like a lifetime ago. I’d like to try again.” She steps towards Zilpah, waiting for her once friend to lead the way.