When was he not ready to fly? A wistful, dreamy smile of sorts, made comical by the water still dripping from his muzzle, came onto Moth's face, a small laughing bubbling from him. As if she had to ask! He knew that she knew the answer, and with wings outstretched she cantered down the dried out riverbed. A powerful downstroke, and she was off, rising into the night sky. For a moment longer Moth stood spellbound, simply watching her take flight, and then gave his head a shake to snap out of it. She'd gotten surer when it came to her wings - if only he could say the same about him and his hooves! His own multicolored wings spread out by his sides, glowing orange in the dying light of today. Sleep and water had restored most of his vigor and energy, but he'd need another drink once they made it to wherever they were going, and another day of sleep. But for now, he was as cured as he could be, only a faint ache in his skull and muscles. Old friend wind brushed up to greet him as he broke into a canter, angling his wings into the flow of wind. Up they went, in perfect sync with the canter's rhythm, and down as the new step begun; right hind leg pushed off the earth simultaneously and Moth took to the sky, beating his large wings quickly before stabilizing. With slower, stronger strokes he climbed after Onni, her pale form illuminated by stray rays of sunlight.

Once up in the air, it felt better - cooler, and the world spread out below him. From up here, the sun was still a sliver of vibrant orange above the horizon, but on the ground shadows reigned. "The sun hasn't set yet up here," he laughed, something free, unbound, in his voice. Now he was in his element, but he remained unusually straight and level, no acrobatic spins and barrel rolls. Moth knew that he was tired, more tired than he usually was than flying, and had no desire to crash to the ground below them. Instead, he followed her up, pushing his wings with slow and steady strokes. The little songbird - what had she called him, Ly something? Sleep had muddled his memory - flew with them, their speed designed for the finch's small wings to keep up.

And as ever around Onni, the wind shifted, pushing at their backs as they flew. A fond smile upon his face, he turned to her, joy in his eyes; joy, at flying. Joy, at living. Joy, at having found her - at last. “We should make it before sunrise,” she said, and he simply nodded his head, falling in behind her. After all, he had no idea where they were going.

[ ... ]

Darkness had come, complete and compact, studded with so many stars that it, as usual, took his breath away as he'd flown below them. And now, darkness was fading, the eastern horizon already brightening to blue, heralding the sun's arrival as the earth turned. Below them, grassy plains had given way to desert sands and now what he thought to be brown or red rocks. At the distance and with the washed-out colors of night, it was hard to tell, but it seemed to be what they'd been heading for. An oasis of life, a vast lake surrounded by grasses and trees. Onni was gliding down, but Moth held his altitude for a moment, gazing down upon the land. Was this where she lived? What - what had she called it? She'd mentioned it once, when she spoke of... an invasion? Her mother had invaded?

Her mother?!
Shit.

Moth's colorful wings locked into a glide and he tipped down, allowing the cool morning air to rush by him. Peach and pink already smudged the horizon, blotting out the nearest stars, but all he had eyes for was the silver-tinged tobiano shape making her way down to earth. She was definitely a lot more confident with flying now, and he smiled a little, and tried to ignore the fact that Onni's warmongering mother lived here somewhere. He'd not been prepared for that - would he pass her inspection? And.. pass it as what, he wondered, as he watched his long-time friend glide down. And.. if her mother had invaded... He squinted. Had she been the commander, or just a soldier? Damn, why was his memory of yesterday so fuzzy? He scowled, dipped down and swept lower. Effortlessly he angled his wings up again, breezing across the surface of the oasis. It looked like it had seen better days. A few bloated fish floated at the surface and Moth scowled. Where would he drink now, then? The ocean? Hardly! One dark hoof slipped down to crash into the waters, rippling the surface as it plowed across, towards shore. A few yards out still, Moth angled his front up even more, beating his wings hard to break his speed and at the same time remain airborne. Once upon the sandy shore, he gently allowed himself to sink further down, less force in his beats, before his hind hooves touched down, shortly followed by his fore ones. Safe and sound upon the ground, where you saw nothing at all of your surroundings, Moth tucked his wings close to his sides and stepped up next to Onni. Bright electric eyes looked around in the early morning light, drinking in the pale wash of yellow against a forest of palm trees.

“Welcome to the Throat.” Throat, right - but what sort of throat? She'd mentioned it but what had it been? "Thanks," he said per reflex, fairly quiet as he tried to drink it all in. "I, uh- I think you said something more yesterday? Something-or-the-other's throat. My memory is sort of... hazy." He felt not just a little stupid for not remembering everything she'd told him, but he'd hardly been in the best of shapes, nearly dying and all. Curiously he kept peering around himself. "I saw.. some dead stuff in the lake. The sun, right? And.. is there a, uhm, cleaner source of water somewhere..? Not that I'm picky, but, yeah, you know - rotting fish and all." He fidgeted slightly, scraping one hoof across the earth, and looking in some other direction. For some reason it felt incredibly rude to ask of her to find him yet another source of water, but.. he was so not inclined to drink from the yucky lake.