Helotes was trying, trying desperately, to ride Potra, but she just wasn’t having it. Between trying to buck him and slinging equine curse words at him, the Hydra male had had enough. So instead, he took to leading her, and had been doing so for several hours now. He was tired, but he knew she was more tired still, after all that bucking and braying. Still, he knew it was time to head home, and so turned in the direction of the mansion.
His path would lead him through the hot springs; not the best place for a horse not sure of its feet, but Helotes was sure he could lead the filly across without any problems. Even in the warming air of spring the mist clung to the earth here, and the bubbling of the springs spewing it forth like the earth was a breathing dragon. It was wet here too, and Helotes could feel the sweat begin to gather beneath his fur. He wiped his eyes then, so in the moment of darkness, when the laughter came, he was sure it was the ghost of his brother. His fur immediately stood on end, ears twitching in every direction, and Potra snorted in surprise. But it did not take him long to realize the voice had been female, and it had been Zana’s.
He could recognize the lilt of her voice from anywhere, and immediately his heart skipped a beat, and he turned from his path to head towards her old den, a hollowed out tree, which was not far off. Soon it came into view, appearing in the mist like a hulking, twisted thing. The laughter had faded, but Helotes was still on edge because of it, Zana? He called out. He wondered what she might be doing out here, rather than being in the mansion with Timori.
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