Meulin bounds through the dry grass with light, playful steps, her wild mane of hair bouncing with each movement. She stretches her arms wide as if she could scoop up the entire twilight sky, spinning once before collapsing into the golden sea below. The brittle grass crackles softly beneath her as she sprawls out, gazing up at the deepening indigo above, her glossy white eyes shimmering in the fading light. A contented sigh escapes her lips, her fingers absentmindedly tracing lazy patterns in the dust. She props herself up on her elbows, her horns—just barely poking out as the wind tousles her hair. A quiet giggle shakes her shoulders; there’s something so purrfectly magical about this moment, this open space, this feeling of absolute freedom. She reaches out, swiping playfully at a stalk of grass like a cat toying with string, before rolling onto her back once more, looking up into the vast Beforeus sky.. The world feels soft and endless, and she is perfectly, absolutely at home in it.