The aftermath is too much for her, so she wishes the memory away. It will not be gone forever (she has learned long ago that nothing good comes of that) but she has at least till dawn to exist in blissful ignorance. That is still several hours away.
The forest around her is dark and quiet.
Overhead, the trees rustle and let through dancing beams of moonlight, illuminating the thin path that the slender mare traverses. She is moving downhill, away from the mountains where Sylva glides up to meet Pangea, away from the rocky ridgeline that holds a host of dark and winding caves. Djinni shudder involuntarily at the unbidden memory of dripping water and earthen walls, but whether it was in pleasure or pain she cannot discern. She brushes the thought away as forest starts to thin around her, eventually revealing one of the few meadows in Sylva.
Her arrival startles a herd of deer, and Djinni thoughtlessly mimics their tawny hides as she walks farther into the meadow, adding a sprinkling of white spots. They nearly match the stars overhead, and the mare raises her head to look up at them. The golden rings in her ears catch the moonlight as she does, and they clink softly against each other.