Hushed Willows I'm arriving, and it feels like I am home.

Her mood changed fluidly, morphing from confused to collected. Sundance, though thankful to receive her pleasantries with a curt not as she sought to confirm the name he'd provided, maintained some level of discomfort. He felt accused, almost, of lying about his heritage. Sterling ears drooped sorrowfully at such a thought, for he could think of no greater shame. For all the company had Sundance kept in his lifetime, no bond could ever be stronger than that he shared with his birth mother.

Worn, both physically and mentally, the silverwhite could muster only a watery smile as his alleged sister went on to answer his question: Eleuthera. Beautiful, elegant, otherworldly Eleuthera. There was no name more fitting for a Shakti daughter.

Sundance lifted his pale snout again, pastel eyes searching his companion's lilac face for any sign of familiarity. Though the hues did not match, he saw Olive in Eleuthera's features: the arch of her brow and delicate curve of her fine muzzle. His own breath wavered in recognition, hitched with a sob that threatened to rack his frame, but still he smiled with soft encouragement as she carried on with a solemn revelation she couldn't quite complete.

"But they are here," he told her, tone thick but hushed, "in the earth and the waterways, the breeze and the willows themselves." He glanced around them, to the beauty of this world they shared, before daring to let his gaze meet hers. "In you and me."