Home: the World’s Edge. That is what Nato had called this place. I followed him through the thick forest wordlessly, probing my own imagination far too intently to provide much conversation. It has always seemed to me that woods welcomed silence. I think about many things: home, trees, frostfall, seasons… Unicorns. The possibility that the world I had always thought infinite might have an actual physical limit – and that I might soon see it for myself. My wings appreciate the break, and they rest heavily over my back.

The arbor grows thinner as the trees distance themselves from one another. The air smells livelier, I think. Finally, there is nothing more overhead: just meadowlands rolling their undulating course onwards, dotted with pockets of water. Downhill, many equines congregate closely together. I hang back to watch, letting Nato approach his family unencumbered by me. What a delightfully eclectic crowd! They blend together in a blur of colors and wings and bodies unlike any I have ever seen; all of them with their own rich history to share. I wait as long as I can stand. Finally, Nato settles into the crowd, and my cheerful trot lifts me over the foreign terrain.

I hover uncertainly at the perimeter of the congregation, my ears twitching. I hear two words over and over: Kaj and Kahlua. A golden pegasus stands at the forefront of the group beside a pinto horse, and the golden one begins to speak at length, taking ownership of the meeting.

His words clarify very little for me. Night Queen, DragonHeart, Qian, Goddess… I try to absorb as much as I can, holding back the flood of questions brewing in my mind. This doesn’t seem like the time. Racism strikes me as such an odd idea. Why would you hate anyone who can share with you a perspective that you would otherwise never know? Why would you ever want to limit yourself that way? The gist of the conversation flows towards new beginnings, and I decide that feels appropriate enough. I am beginning anew here, too. Maybe this herd’s new roots shall sustain my own growth. I would like that.

I remain silent at the call for a Captain. I am unpracticed in the art of fighting: I didn’t grow up with the other colts who rough-housed for hours on end, and because of that I never seem to have that natural instinct for the art of combat.

Another horse is called out as Specter – I have no idea what that might even entail. I feel like I am interrupting something important, but I know I can’t simply lurk as a trespassing stranger for long. I step closer to the group and clear my throat before speaking up towards Kaj and Kahlua and everyone else, “Greetings. I’ve been led here by your own Nato. The only armor I can provide you is that of my mind, but I would happily offer it if you would accept it. I am Pampero.” I am Pampero and I have about eight hundred questions that I would like to ask. Let me stay and learn their answers.

“…nowhere to go but everywhere, keep rolling under the stars.”
– Jack Kerouac