His hoof struck the hard earth, rocks skittering out from beneath him, threatening his balance. A shift of his weight and he recovered, limbs burning as he pressed upwards, the determined beat of his heart pushing him onward. Destiny tore at him, his dream a pillar of light, the sand, the mountain, climbing through cold and dark, and in the end, sinking into white and finding enlightenment.

Panting, Journey reached the peak - not of his mountain, no, just a craggy rise that looked out across a path he could not travel. This was where the Ache started to catch, pulling him back towards the Swamp. He glanced behind him, to the dark green patch that marked the home that had trapped him in its ever consuming grasp.

In the other direction, grey blotches marked the line of mountains. Totoma still travelled from there, left their homes and followed the call of the MotherFather. Once ensnared, they could never go back. No matter how they wished.

Just as he could never feel the sand dunes beneath his hooves ever again, or feel that desert sun on his back. He wanted to defy it, he wanted to push beyond, strive until his heart stopped beating.

The wind picked up, threatened to push him from the cliffside but he held firm.

“You’ve really made me work hard for this one,” a deep voice said to his side, sudden and startling, when he thought he’d been alone.

It nearly sent him toppling backwards.

The Acha blew out a surprised breath.

The very last thing he had expected to see up here was a tall stag, long red mane blowing in the wind, startling colour against the blue sky and grey earth. Those glowing eyes regarded him passively, as if this was a normal occurrence.

Journey had traveled far and seen many things, he knew of Legendaries and had courted their favour for earlier clutches, but finding one at the furthest reaches with him made his mind go blank.

“You can’t go there,” the stag said, his gaze turned towards the far-away mountains. “Neither can I.”

“It’s my destiny,” the words came out unbidden, mouth moving before mind.

The stag turned back to him, seemed to reconsider the trail-worn Acha before him. “Maybe,” he conceded. “Though that is hardly a fate I would wish upon anyone.”
Death.

It was the only way Journey would ever stop moving.

“Since you’re here, I presume I am to be a father again.”

“You are,” he confirmed. 

It seemed his last meeting with Transcendance had taken fruit once more. She was a lovely doe.

“Would you do me the honour of blessing my unborn children?”

“That is why I’m up here,” the stag huffed. “May they travel far and merry, not consumed by their wanderlust and content in what they find.”

Journey gave a bark of laughter. “Yes,” he said. “That seems appropriate. Thank you.”

“Good. Now, are we going to climb down or shall I leave you up here?”

There wasn’t anything more to be accomplished in the high cold place, staring at an impossible destination. Journey turned his gaze away from it and back towards the Swamp.

“Yes, let us go.”