It was not the sort of place the mare usually found herself in, though of late she could admit to something of a morbid curiosity. It was an area recently ravaged by fire and left blackened and wreaking of the death and destruction that the flames had wrought. The trees in this grove were gnarled and twisted sentinels looking over the dead here with skeletal arms reaching out to snag the mare's hair and clothes and scratch her delicate features. The air was dead and no audible sign of life could be heard. Inara took a breath, wondering what had possessed her to come here. She was determined, however, to try to find beauty here. There was a purpose for all things, and this charred wasteland had its own place in the world. Still, as her gentle footfalls echoed softly in the still air she had the unsettling feeling that another presence lingered here. "It's just your imagination," she whispered to herself and took a deep breath to calm herself.
She continued on a slow, meandering path through the blackened trees, amazed that so many of them had remained standing. It gave her hope that life might yet return to this place, but when she paused to examine one of the trees she found it but a lifeless husk, burnt from the inside and hallow. She shook her head slowly, trying to find the purpose in such meaningless death. She was now deep into the ashy grove and glanced about suddenly, wondering which way she had come in. She fought the slight panic that tried to well within her. She was being silly and she knew it, but she couldn't help feeling that she was trespassing in this grove of death. She frowned as she tried to find something familiar to guide her back from whence she'd come.
