Through the rush of othersapos; excitement and the way of the new paths, a recent overabundance of energy resulting in far less time spent sleeping of late, Isarim was joining the fad and the flow and exploring.
He was pleased to find that by some standards, heapos;d seen much of the worlds already.
Some places were new, though, and he sang quietly, half of the words in Foxapos;s forgotten other language, riding through the forests of Ashenvale with love in his heart.
When he arrived in the Shrine of Aessina, it hit him like a wonderful kick in the chest, some benevolent horse keen on making him realize what heapos;d found.
They had been here. Oh, they had been here years ago, shyly holding hands and wishing well their friends, making quiet plans for later times.
It was joy, it was significance, it was legacy.
Isarim smiled peaceful assurances at the locals, raised a hand, and turned to leave.
Theyapos;d have years too, they would. He and Kamaia.
And maybe more than that.
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