100%
Through the dense heat of the bright afternoon, Hector sailed into the east on patrol, glossy orange eyes scouring hungrily the rolling world of green below. It had been many weeks since the great tri-bred had moved beyond the boundaries of his beloved desert home. The herd was slowly expanding, new faces were spilling down from the north, and he remained on high alert not quite able to shake the impression of the Darkness from his memory. Dragon’s Throat was more vulnerable than ever he could remember it being, and for the time being he could not rest comfortably. Nevertheless, a task had been set- to scout through the grove by coastline beneath the edge, and obediently the soldier had parted from the sand.
As he passed rapidly over the Meadow’s meandering stream below propelled by the mild summer breeze, he dipped his glorious wingspan a little so that he might begin to descend. The thick tree line bordering the middle-land grew steadily larger the further his journey progressed, until at last the swishing grass and gurgling water course (not that at the altitude he travelled either were overly obvious) were behind him. Hector bristled warily as the breeze intensified, ears lancing backwards to lie atop the flapping, snapping length of his fiery red mane as it flow in his wake. He knew he was near the coast, salt soon tinged the flavour of the previously fresh air, and by then too, if he had wished to unravel the length of his limbs they might have scraped along the rough canopy of the various trees reaching to the sun.
He began at once to search for an opening in the thick forest, aware that somewhere beneath, the Grove’s perimeter would be not so visibly defined. The enormous warrior stallion was not even certain if it had been breached already. Ahead he noticed a fault in the vivid green awning and angled his path towards it. Surely enough, an old tree had failed and as he sank into the void tangerine eyes noted the great timber body rotting in a bed of thick, festering litter. He had not often visited the area, and detected all too quickly the strangely sour moisture tang in the air. The soil too was damp, and the sickly weight of Birdsong’s humidity seemed not to have faded much. He was no fan of clammy weather, favouring the stark burning aridity of his home- that which reflected their God of the Sun so perfectly.
A bothered snort erupted from the flare of his nostrils sending a swarm of flies fumbling for balance. The dim hue of a setting sun cast shadows still deeper across his sweated-strewn chestnut coat, and he peered up through the gaping hole in the Grove’s roof to bid silent farewell to the sun. Certainly he imagined not returning to the skies soon enough to view the beauty of true sunset. Afterwards, Hector set on his way still towards the east, careful gaze drinking steadily the unfamiliar landscape surrounding. Still the shrill call of settling cicadas filled the air, so that unless he strained at length, he could hear not much else. In these parts the creatures were bold and quite unfazed by his passing through.
He had not walked much longer when the sweet scent of clean water graced his rattling nostrils. Instantly his chin lifted higher to test the air further, and his wing feathers ruffled eagerly where the clutched just clear of his strapping body. Guided by thirst he went deeper through the trees until the shimmering pool began at last to wink invitingly at him between trunk and bough. Arriving by its rim, the stallion sank his lips to drink, only lifting again once thick saliva again laid slick across his tongue. That was when Hector noticed the movement nearby. The part of her that stood above the water seemed doused in the dust from the desert, and he thought at once that it was she who had been set as his patrol partner.
"Evening, " he called quietly- conscious of the peacefulness surrounding.
"Are you the one called Sikeax?"
.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
