Interactive Quest all the characters of ancient drama,

Time is a matter of perspective. To a mayfly, 24 hours is an entire adult lifespan. They only ever feel sunrise on their wings once. To a bristlecone pine, a decade passes like nothing. An exhale, a sigh, the blink of an eye. Centuries slip by quietly, shed with the routine insignificance of snakeskin.

To a horse, it would be fair to say it took Picoro a Very Long Time to get to Novus. Which was to be expected, sloths being what they are. But step by step was the only way for him to get Luvena, so step by step he went. He marched with such single-minded focus that time passed as in a dream, whereupon waking you can’t quite tell the difference between minutes and weeks- you feel a little like a mayfly, and a little like a bristlecone pine.

It was a cold winter day when Picoro knew, with a certainty only a bonded could experience, that Luvena was close. “Luvena?” He tested their bond with a tug that she might feel physically as though there were a string tied round her heart. But there was no response, and nothing else for him to do but keep moving, step by step, now with renewed vigor for he felt his journey was so very close to an end.

It was later that day, not long before sunset when the wolves came. They were thin, ragged things, bones poking through thin white and grey coats. At the first sight of them Picoro had taken to the treetops, where he could stay for days if necessary- although he fiercely did not want to. He was close to his bonded, even closer than before. He just knew it. He wanted to keep going. “Luvena, can you hear me?” He called into the twilight, growing frustrated as darkness began to fall and the wolves pressed closer. They were not particularly impressive animals. The pack was hungry and tired and worn paper-thin by desperation and a hard year. Maybe he could take down one of them by itself, but with all of them together… he would be forced to wait them out.

The snow began to fall heavily, blowing sideways in gusty whirls of white that came in bursts thick as fog. With every lift of the weather, no matter how brief, he imagined he saw Luvena charging through the night, coming to chase off the beasts and carry him home. But she was never there. “Lu…” He tried again, growing cold and tired. As though the wolves sensed his exhaustion, they began to howl. One by one they tried to climb the tree, but all who neared the sloth were greeted by a surprisingly nimble swipe of his sharp claws.

Picoro did not know how long he could keep it up. He had overcome every other obstacle in his path to get here, and he was certain that if he could just survive, his bonded would find her way to him through the storm Or the next day, when the weather cleared and the wolves lost their patience, he would keep going to her. And when they were reunited, every struggle and pain and frustration would be worth it.