The four weanlings looked around, bewildered. "What are we going to do?" Ashfeather said. Stormflight and Graystripe flew up, looking for something, but it was just trees all around. Mossfire looked around.
"Follow me," he said. "I have an idea. I can call on my sire." The Snow Herd foals looked at each other in astonishment.
"Are you crazy?" Stormflight asked, not a trace of humor lingering.
"No," Mossfire answered. "I think the Trap will help us." The others still gawked at the wood-winged foal, sired by none other than the Trap itself. No pegasus of the Herds in their right mind would follow this steed. But then Ashfeather remembered that they, having been banished, were no longer of the Five Herds.
"We have no choice, do we," Ashfeather said. There was no question there. Mossfire started to traipse deeper into the woods, following what seemed like a whim
"What are you doing?" Graystripe asked.
"Following the glowing moss," Mossfire answered calmly.
"What!?" The three foals exclaimed in unison.
"Don't you see?" Mossfire asked. He pointed to an almost invisible trail of the luminescent moss. "It will lead me to my sire." The Snow Herd foals followed Mossfire with hesitation.
Soon, their legs grew tired, and they longed to fly, but couldn't. Mossfire determinately led the group, until he stopped at a clearing. "We're here," Mossfire said with confidence. The Snow Herd steeds looked closer, squinting until they could make out what Mossfire saw.
There, in the center of the clearing, stood a wooden pegasus.