The land was familiar to Pan – so familiar, that he didn’t have to stop and look at where he was going or ask for directions.  It was as if his feet knew that if he turned to his left, a hundred paces from here would be a tree – and a hundred further, a moss laden rock.  He’d certainly been to this place before, but Pan couldn’t tell you when or for what reasons.  If only the trees could talk… the stories they would tell about the boy.  They would tell of different faces and a different king, but of Oriens all the same.  Delumine would always hold a special place for the boy, even if he could not remember his first venture into Novus and the Dawn Court.

All around him, there is life.  Perhaps this is what first drew him to settle in the Dawn Court – but now, the Vagabond knows nothing of home and is only drawn to the magic of it all.  There are birds singing their summer songs, the rush of water over rocks as the Rapax River brushes the borders of the meadow, flowers – as far as his eyes could see.  Pan sighed a whimsical sort of sigh, reaching down to brush his lips along the tall grass, nibbling a bit for good measure.

This is how Mateo would find him, exploring with his senses as he whispered to a prairie dog who chittered and dug tunnels nearby.  The boy turned to grin at the approaching stallion, rising to his feet and dancing toward him without hesitation.  Hello – I’m Pan!

There isn’t a shy bone in the boy’s body, and energy seemed to seep from his very skin.  Where am I?  This place… I mean… I think I’ve been here before.  It would all sound very odd to this stranger, but then, Pan didn’t really think these things through.  He was prone to just letting words travel from his brain to his mouth, without much of a filter… and as a result, his thoughts were often jumbled and given without much context.

Did any of those names ring a bell?  Pan laughed to himself, the sound a bit sarcastic as he wondered if anything really rang a bell anymore.   Or something… the boy mumbled, agreeing with the dark Pegasus as he paced back and forth.  All in all, Pan made quite a picture as his hooves carved and began to wear down a path in the tall grasses of the meadow.  It wasn’t often that the boy found himself flustered, or even that he waned in his confidence.  But Pan was living in interesting times… and for now, he was still trying to find his footing in Novus.

I suppose that I was here before. he said decisively, nodding as if to convince himself (despite the doubtful tone of his words).  How else would I know that the meadow leads to a river, and the river to a cave?  I found this there… he drew out a weathered scroll, unfurling it for the dark Pegasus without a care who saw them and judged.  Written upon the parchment were scribbled notes about herbs, mentioning the very names that Teo had spoken.  See here… it’s about Novus… it’s about plants.  I’ve started to find them.

It was a good thing Mateo had a sense of humor, for the boy made about as much sense as a riddle these days.

Illustrating his point, Pan drew a bunch of dried bee balm from his satchel, tied together with a crude piece of rope.  He grinned with pride as he showed off the flowers before tucking them gingerly back into the folds of his satchel.  It seems that I have lost my memory, because I don’t remember any of this.  Somnus said I was here before.  The boy’s mention of the king is interesting, as he doesn’t truly know that the golden Pegasus is the keeper of Delumine.  Instead, he simply remembers the sovereign as a friendly face (and one who had promised to join him on the search for pink dolphins).  I think it’s rather strange though, don’t you?  How can you know about a place, but not really know who you are or where you came from?

Curious, indeed.

Magic – the thought was a fanciful thing.  Once, Pan had a penchant for magic.  He had wielded the water element as if he were born to do so.  At first, his powers had been something weak and fleeting, but with time he had grown into quite a skilled elemental.  Then, these powers had been stripped from him, giving birth to a darker and wilder sort of magic.  With the rift’s old magic, Pan could be anything he wanted to be.  He had learned to fly, to travel through time… and perhaps it is the reckless abandon with which he used the dark magic that had led to his downfall.  It was certainly a plausible theory.

No, he replied.  I’m searching for the plants, because these are for healing…  In the scroll, he flipped to the page which talked about bee balm.  Take this one, for instance… it says it’s used for inflammation and cleaning a wound.  He tugged a few wilting flowers free from the bunch.  Here… you take some.  Never know when these might come in handy.

He tucks the rest into his bag, a slender and pale ear flicking toward Mateo as he listens while reorganizing his stash.  Without missing a beat, he comments.  I don’t have parents.  The statement is matter of fact, without a hint of emotion.  For of course, Pan would have had parents, once… it’s just that he couldn’t remember them.  On some days while he dreamed, he remembered bits of his mother, fair and beautiful, smelling of honeysuckle with a voice like an angel… but even before his memory had been taken from him, Pan could hardly remember his mother.  At best, he had only a feeling of warmth and love which washed over him when he thought of her.  And who knew who his father was… Pan liked to think that perhaps he might have been a pirate.

Sighing, he lets his mind wander away from the confusion, grinning instead at Mateo’s suggestion for a fresh start.  I like the idea of a fresh start.  What would you do, if you could do it all over again?

The boy seldom lets life get him down, even when the chaos seems to surround them.  There is just something jovial and buoyant about his personality that begs others to smile too.  So when Mateo speaks of his father, Pan is a bit surprised to hear a note of sadness in his voice.  He cannot know what happened to Mateo’s dad, but assumes perhaps he was no longer in this world.  Death, Pan knew, could be a cruel thing.  Though it had rarely touched his own life, he knew enough to step forward and place his teacup muzzle against the older stallion’s neck in a gesture of comfort.

I’ll bet you have a wonderful voice… there’s no need to be afraid.  Best way to get over the fear is by doing it, I suppose!  As if illustrating his point, Pan breaks into an off key pirate shanty, not concerned in the least that his voice was far from beautiful.  If you ever want to sing along, we can always sing together.  And if anyone makes fun of you, just tell them to bug off… life’s too short for worries.  An insightful thought from such a childish creature.

He smiles easily, gathering up his treasures as the sun begins to set on Delumine.  Well, I guess I should be going… best to get some rest before the it gets too dark.  His necklace begins to emit a soft light in the dying shadows, guiding his path back to wherever the strange creature had come from.  But I would love to hear you song… when you feel ready, you can find me at my cave… by the river.  We’ll look for pink dolphins.  And with a skip in his step, the boy races away, satchel jingling at his side as his raucous song rises into the air once more.