Dawnlark Plains I will be there like mercy; I will find you through it all

As her voice settled over the expanse of the plains, Andalusia tried not to worry about who would and wouldn't meet her there. Rather, she surveyed the territory again, taking in the sights with greater precision, sparse though they were. Eventually the Ostrega levelled to watch the lightest breeze pulse through the prairie grass. There wasn't much to the motion, but their gentle rhythm, the way their limber stalks glistened beneath the stark summer sun. It reminded her of home.

She didn't recognize the man who loped toward her and stole her from her trance; he wasn't Sebastian, and Andalusia deflected to his authority with a courteous bow. There was an air of strength to his posture, an assurance - yet something earthy, warm and familiar. He was a stranger, but his presence made her feel comfortable.

"So he is here!" She laughed and lifted her head, and found the want to keep on going until she pranced right on up to the sky. Instead, she restrained herself, yet the emotion still sketched along the length of her travel-worn frame: lips curled to the glow of a smile, blue eyes glistening with the warmth of relief, and tail moving with a vibrant sway, "Andalusia Ostrega. He's one of my closest friends,"  - family, even - "but we lost each other about a season back. I've been looking for him ever since - and then I found your trail, over near Silvertip, and his scent - it was mingled in so faint - but I followed - and he's really here?"