The tightness in her muscles eased and her body cooled, thanks to the slow march Gaucho had insisted upon. The edge wore off in the gentle come down but it was not enough for her to go tearing off and find the lost dove as Meg wanted. Over the last week she had tapped into her reserves of energy without frugality and a long restorative sleep was coming on soon whether the warrior willed it or no. Even as she declared her desire to press on, the understanding came that she would be no use to her powerful brothers in arms if they all left now. They were all so damn big, those beautiful bastards!

Gaucho was enough of a distraction from her disappointed hopes of further service that day. Meg eyed him curiously, assured now that his anger was not with her, but still she felt the need to do something. He has so burdened, and it cut into her every time she saw him that she could not do more to help, to ease his worries. He stopped, and so did she as she tried hastily to think of something bracing she could say for the both of them. It appeared though, that he had a reason for stopping, and the beleaguered battlemare watched his remove the golden amulet from its hiding place and cast his magic into in.

And then Gaucho the Wildfire offered it to her.

To her!

It was almost more than she could bear. Would the Wildfire never stop this ceaseless generosity towards her? Would she ever be able to repay him for what he had already given? Meg could see no end in either. She could not train hard enough, could not fight fierce enough, and could not shed enough of her blood to even the scales between them.

Gratitude, admiration, devotion, each one surged, a treacherous tidal wave of feeling that shone through her eyes as bright and plain as her sunlight. The only emotion she’d ever felt so strongly was fury and that she had found so much easier to express. Meg knew anger, anger had raised her, but these were foreign and frightening. She wanted to weep. She wanted to reach out and embrace this great stallion. She wanted to be a girl again, the one who had yearned for a father that loved her, that would hold her and tell her what a good, brave girl she was. But that wasn’t who she was anymore. She head it like an echo, what she had burned into her heart only last season. ‘Megaera. Warrior of Dragon’s Throat. Servant of the Sun. Daughter of Fire.’ and she had to be that now and forevermore.

Gaucho reached out for her and Meg almost pulled away for fear that she might break in her outward composure. She was not quick enough and felt the press in her shoulder, but found she had the strength after all. She nodded, not trusting herself to speak, and reached down to collect the golden badge from red sands. She took great care in nesting the treasure safely under her wing and then turned back to Gaucho only to lower her head. “Thank you.” Was all she could manage, barely more than a whisper and wracked with more than she had any right to express. She lifted her gaze and straightened, a soldier in every right, and raised her wings in salute. She turned then, as honorable a retreat as the warrior could manage, and marched to the refuge of the oasis.


@[Gaucho] Aaaaaaand, Meg runs away from scary emotions! “Too feel. Can’t deal.”