The memories had come back as a torrent at first, the obvious things; what it was like to wake up and have the expansive lake be the first thing she saw; the sunrise and sunset; the way the air smelled up here; how it felt to sit on her favourite boulder; the shape and colour of the forests and plains far below. It had almost been too much, as though these old loves were so strong as to overpower the memories she had made since. For a short time she had struggled to clearly remember what Crystherium Lake had been like, the plants and rocks and views that she had fallen in love with there. It had been a strange thing to find that she did miss the range in Lacerta, deeply missed it, with a longing she had only before felt for this mountain. She had had to calmly tell herself that it was okay.
Other, lesser recollections had come back in a slower but steady stream, minor things which didn't usually feature in a trip down nostalgia road. The way that rock had always looked like a bird taking off, or that family of goats which were always standing on that impossibly steep part of the mountain she could never reach, or that small tunnel under the overhang which looked well-kept but whose owner had always remained a mystery. These things were spotted and recalled with a smile or laugh, usually, for as a youth Bella had naively sought nothing but the beautiful and amusing, her gaze blind to all else. That had changed when they came for her, souring her pure love with doubt and guilt, but Wolesh had whisked her away before she could form any bitter memories.
The smallest memories came almost unnoticed, though she was thankful for them this day. The sky had been dense with clouds when she had awoken, and, having spent her day seeking the highest point of the mountain, her patience had been rewarded by the unique experience of being swallowed by white. The fog had been thin at first, a mere blur which obscured distant details, but had thickened with incredible speed, and within half an hour Bella could barely make out her own front paws. Where once the world had been laid at her feet, at this highest of points, now there was nothing but damp, cool, soft white. Was this what it was like to be blind?
Though she could have sat for hours, utterly content, Belladonna only permitted herself brief personal excursions these days, for she had more than just herself to think about. Though her children had their own plans for the day, she knew, the mother felt most comforted when she was within easy access of them. Independent though they were - well, most of them - she would not forgive herself if they had need of her and she was not there. As such, and with no end in sight of the low clouds, she was forced to make her way back down, effectively blinded. The smallest memories came back at that moment, the memories she had unconsciously forged during her uncountable adventures and excursions all over this mountain, the subtle snippets of knowledge which guided her feet safely down the mountain's peak without need for her eye's assistance. She caught on quickly, realising how her feet knew where to go before she even thought about it, and took great pleasure in it. Though she knew that her familiarity with the pathways and passages of the Dire was immense, it was a marvel to see it realised in such a pure way.
At ease with her movements, stepping lightly from rock to rock, foothold to foothold, she fell into an easy autopilot, humming softly to herself.