His Lord had returned to the clay mixed sands of the home he had always known. From birth these warm particles had been his to command and own. Now he would return to them, beneath leads foreign to him. He would swear his allegiance to them as a grown stallion, still youthful, but ready to serve those who had returned with him. But this time there was going to be one major difference. One heartbreaking, agonizing difference. It hurt to even think of it. But he was finally alone.

He had parted from his father to keep his loyalty to the Sun Father. Cera could not abandon the Throat as easily as Midas had. He felt disgusted by his father's actions, saddened by their parting, but nothing else could be wrung from his emotions. There had been too much in the past for him to feel as if he could engage in such passionate emotions. Now, he slid from sunbeam to sunbeam, watching the borders, awaiting the return of the herd he would never fit into. Not in the past, and certainly not in the future. Cera had long since learned the valuable, at times debilitating lesson of independence.

Gaucho was not among the leaders to return. Cera frowned softly, not sure how he felt about that, but followed in silent obedience as the two mares screamed for him so loudly. Did they not know he belonged to these lands? He was already here.

It took little to find them, no clear distance that required flight to speed his arrival. By the time he had, there was only one other in attendance. He listened to them, expecting more from their mouths, but finding only disappointment. Was the meeting not beginning, then? Kri had always been so forthright, declaring what she needed to, never wasting any time. That efficiency had rubbed off on the colt he had once been beneath her command. But these mares were not Kri. He would simply have to deal with that.

"Cera, child of Midas. This has been my home since birth. Nothing will change that." He spoke simply, sincerely, but with a wary sort of respect. He did not trust them so quickly. He had learned long ago that such behavior was foolish, even deathly. Wings folded loosely, Ilaria perched upon his shoulder like a silent stone guardian of red and black. Together, two pairs of emerald eyes continued to entrap the leaders, intrigued and patient. Always waiting. Cera would not make the mistake of following those who would bring his herd, his land, to ruin. The Sun Father did not deserve such disrespect.