Runes. The dream visitor spoke of them in her well, dreams. Wardruna had returned home, speaking of seeing one, it's glow. That in some out of body state she was sat among many others, visions given to her, to them.

Journey didn't know if this dream visitor was a god... and if it was, was it like the trickster god, Loki? It spoke of these runes acting like a protector, seperated and unable to be seen by their eye for protective purposes. What if this was to protect the magic from being returned to the very same nefarious being which spoke to them now?

Journey was uncertain, reluctant, yet she couldn't help all the same be curious of how this little game of life and death might play out. She herself had played this game many times before and this one carried a new twist, a new little thrill that skipped in her heart.

So she searched.

She ran along the frosted fields as fast as her legs would carry her. She felt the pounding in her chest as she imagined her hooves pounding the ground. Every so often she would give a jump off a rolling mound of snow or knoll, just so she could imagine the first beat of her wings as she gave flight. Yet it was not so. Not in this life. Though she may dream. Dream with the same mind where the visitor had come to her. For which her senses sought - smells, sound, sight - of a distant thrum and magical glow.