She follows the sound of the river. From faraway you could mistake it for the wind dancing in the treetops, but she does not. Her thirst magnifies the sound. Mud is caked to her knees and underbelly, and colors brown her white tail. She no longer smells of the rainforest, that scent faded from her weeks ago. That life is miles and miles behind her now, and she only thinks of it when she wakes; just half-aware of where she is, rainforest dreams still filling her senses. Damp, mossy earth and sunlight filtered through tall canopies- dreams she wants to return to, but reality calls. When she shakes the sleep from her head, two rings braided into her mane clink together. The sound grounds her.

She follows the sound of the river. Step by step, slowly first then faster and faster. She has passed through the edge of the Solterran desert and the water calls to her like an old friend. The call invigorates her for more than one reason. Her thirst is first (a rhyme, a smile), and she's long overdue for a bath. But also she thinks this river must be the one that marks Delumine. She moves even faster.

She follows the sound of the river, and then it is before her. She slows to a dance and proceeds until she is knee-deep, laughing in delight as the water laps at her. When she lowers her head to drink, the tips of her braids play in the current of the river. It is calm and peaceful here, but even as her body relaxes a knot of nervous excitement begins to churn in her chest. 

So this is home now.