The setting sun behind Bastion cast the world in a warm orange sheen, but the Dungeon Courser’s head was bowed low as he walked back to his home. His muscles ached from the long runs and even fights he had undertaken, and his mane was puffed and frizzled out from the humid air of the caverns just below the surface. He dragged his hooves along the grass below him, scoring the earth in places. 

With a sigh, he curled around the corner of the ruins he called home. The front wall of what was once a large home was caved in, and the jagged walls behind it were worn from time and weather. Veins of creeping ivy reached across the walls, clutching at the stone blocks. Where the setting sun did not reach, deep shadows pooled in the edges, and the floor had been all but entirely reclaimed by the grass below. 

Shaking off his packs, Bastion let them fall to the ground and lay where they may. His belongings and a few trinkets clinked within, but he paid them no mind, instead wandering over to the corner where a painting had once hung proudly. Time had wiped the canvas clean, leaving only a few faint marks to suggest the outline of a horse.

Bastion stared up at it with exhausted eyes. 

These ruins are all we have left.

His ears flicked as he thought.

But it is so lonely here since mother passed…