Scattered lights draw his attention, the borealis of magic reminds him of the green-black of his waking, and he seeks it out for the vague familiarity. The light fades as swiftly as it was spawned and so he tries to move faster, only to stumble in the snow.

He does not give up, though. It does not even cross his mind to let the endless white take him, so he gets to his little cloven feet, shakes the dust from his rotund little body, and takes off again. Little by little he gets closer to where he has seen the light; then there are voices.

"Lights are simp--" cheered a tiny voice. He could not keep up with it; so small among the crunching of his body through the white. Sometimes he is drowning in it, like with the river. "I'm a Fairyfly! Clever --"

When he comes bursting on the scene in the next instant, it is through an embankment of snow. He leaves a piglet-shaped void behind him, and stands there blinking up at the more obvious shape of Comet; more appropriately, staring at the shining stone ear upon their head.