For all the threats obvious and implied that were made against the Throat, nobody had ever stepped forward to follow through. Even Catallatio seemed to have retreated into the shadows, slinking back to wherever he came from like a kicked wolf. And good riddance, too.
Navigating the turbulent thermals above the desert had become second nature to her. Even the loss of two primaries, ripped out by D'artagnan, she was able to continue her aerial patrols. Java normally flew beside her during twilight or nighttime hours, but today he slept on her back, drowsy in the hot sun. Having a nocturnal companion was interesting, to say the least. Their connection affected them both. She found herself feeling more active during the night, and Java had begun spending more time awake during the day.
Two forms below caught her attention, one winged, one horned. Recognizing Gaucho's brawny form, she dipped downwards, landing next to him in a small sand cloud. As the dust settled, she carefully folded her wings, giving her sparmate a friendly nod before turning her attention to the newcomer.
She recognized the dainty silver mare from the Foothills invasion. She wasn't quite sure how to feel about meeting the horse who had orchestrated that, who had exiled others from their home just so she could have their land. Finally, her expression settled on guarded politeness. "What brings you to the Throat, Chieftess?" she asked. Was she a little rounder than normal?
Walk walk walk walk.
"Talk talk talk talk."
In blood and honor, we will prevail.</style>
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image by gpabill @ flickr.com
Thanks for the good times, and no hard feelings for the bad times.
Vicer and Aryel's new threads never happened.
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