Ψ · Achilles, Achilles, Achilles, come down

The stallion had made a long journey to investigate how thoroughly things had been shifting and changing in the world he and the wolves of Ardent called home. The days had shifted to barely a handful of hours as he’d gone, and by the time to reached the east coast, the moon never set, and never waned.

The fireflies were even more abundant, and he doubted it was just because he’d come east. More puzzling were the whispers of familiar voices. At first, they’d been just out of reach of understanding. But he recognized the lilts and intonations as those of his last band… but not all of the mares’ voices were there that had been lost in that catastrophic landslide.

The memory was a tight band in his chest, something that not even the soothing motion of jaws and tongue eased.

He came to a stop, just short of the edge of a tall cliff that shone white under the moon, a dark sea rushing over the beach below – far below – and he stood, gazing out, ears flicking and swiveling as the flashes of blue drifted and floated around him. Crystals and mushrooms he could accept for the most part, even glowing flora and fauna—considering his own appearance and that of at least two wolves he knew well, it was the least unusual thing in this entire strange winter.

The voices, though. They were an entirely other thing he wasn’t sure he liked. Did it make it any better that he didn’t hear his dam’s voice among those whispers? Perhaps…

One ear canted toward a voice, feminine and wolven. One large teal eye flicked to spot the woman, before he turned his great, horned head and regarded her more intently before the skin of his shoulders twitched in a shrug and he responded, “Strange times for all of us.”

His voice was a deep rumble, steady and calm despite the concerns he had for the world.

Walk ---- "Speak" ---- "Hear" ---- Think