Whatever strange sort of gift the sprites of Spring offered, Foxglove felt like it had to somehow be bound to some sort of cosmic energy. He now sought out the tunnels - finding them wasn't that hard - not when they stood out so strongly against the backdrop of winter, even with the ruddy color in some spaces of the blushed meadows. The pink was still out of the ordinary, and Foxglove diverted from his focus from mapping out potential garden spots when he caught that scent again. When he'd visited The Hand with Fable he'd been interested in the whole concept - finding this new strange place, being there, all of it was intriging.

It was like whatever had spirited him away before to a different space had also given them this sort of place - connected to memories, maybe, but he wasn't certain. If he went into the tunnel without Fable would that mean that he wouldn't find the village they'd visited before, but instead, only his home?

Maybe that was the crux of it - he would have to figure it out and investigate on his own. What triggered where they were taken? His nose twitched as he took in the heady scent of the trees blossoms again - immediately his paws followed his nose until he could see the tunnel properly again. The trees were tall, bough's full of fragrent beautiful flowers. It was beautiful and he hoped that they would last and survive for longer. What if he managed to get some of the seeds from those flowers, could he plant them? Could he grow them and cultivate them? It was an interesting concept, at least.

The ruddy colored male stopped, tail swaying slowly behind him. He hadn't visited one of the tunnels by himself thusfar, and it made him hesitate for a moment. What if it didn't work without someone else?