My ears fall back at Aithniel’s retort and I feel the sensation of anger burning in my heart that she responded with such harshness; it eases as she continues, however, and so I figure she’s only upset about being back here and irritable as every woman in the universe is. Having a scuffle this far into our adventure would be stupid, anyway, and so I settle into my steps with a scowl on my face, the taste of my pride as it went down bitter and agitating as this blasphemous heat.

She stays distant as we look out into the herd land, concern finding its way where the anger had just been as I glance over at her before Erebos and I delve into our thoughts as to what the odd, jutting figure is in the distance. I’m glad to hear her chortle in response to my jest that the tree is the hideous house of the Sun God, and what she says next is actually interesting and doesn’t dishearten me at all – I’m actually kind of glad its not a place a God lives. That wouldn’t say much for him at all.

The rest of it makes sense, too. How could anything grow out here? I look around me at the obliqueness of all the sand and nod in agreement with my sister.

I don’t get a chance to reply to her, though I want to, because there is someone approaching – multiple someone’s, really. The first is a unicorn who looks us all over with a nervous air that makes me wonder why it is she’s come to the border in defense of the land beyond. In the Basin, all of our soldiers and greeters are brave and bold, not meek or hesitant as this woman who takes a moment to gather her thoughts and softly disdain the conversation she overheard and the children who had said it all.

I look over the woman and wonder why it is she seems so familiar to me as she speaks.

The floating island, and a party! My brows rise as I look her over again and verify that, yes, this is the same woman who had sung the pretty song and drawn my attention at the gathering of the Edge folk. I look at her now with a new light of wonder, not having expected someone to have been at that gathering to be a member of a different herd aside from momma and I, and feeling a lot less hostile towards her for the realization that we had probably just caused a start in her heart (and my logic overcomes my need to extinguish the burning air around me), I turn to look at the next one that arrives to greet our entourage.

She shares with us her name and position and verifying that we had indeed found the treasure we were searching for.

Cursed treasure, gold with a black soul – but I keep quiet, Erebos’ bubbling in with his usual exuberance.

It’s a young, winged stag, painted a natural gold and white, and he chuckles at the mare called Sikeax and manages a smile from my surly face. The man also has a furry creature with him that I don’t recognize and that steals Erebos’ focus and sends his words rushing into the air again, my eyes looking over at him with amusement at his ever present vivacity and thirst for life as the stranger introduces himself.

He’s job the same sort of job as Zikar, it sounds like, and he seconds Aithniel’s words that the tree is not a summoning tool. He continues to explain its purpose, however, delving into a story that is actually quite exciting.

My eyes are wide by the end of his words and I glance back over to the hideous thing in the distance, suddenly enamored with it where I had just been projecting my agitation with the heat. In all honesty, the sweat dripping from me is forgotten in the grand, mental images that flash through me at the mention of dragons and flames, the memory of so much blood that it was forever given testament in the form of a funny looking tree that oozed red sap.

I wonder if the sap does anything special other than just ooze, but don’t ask.


"It’s a memory then is all?" I ask, still staring at it with scrunched up eyes and little tail flickering behind me in curious wonder. I’m not sure how a tree gives testament to anything, but that it survived a fire that left only a desert behind is pretty cool, like Erebos says.

He wants to know why we’re here, and I move to answer him but find my lips sealed as the best arrives for last. He’s a dark unicorn with red splashes along his pelt, drawing my eyes with reverence at the proud way he carries every muscle as he comes in behind his fox friend and capturing me with his elaborate greeting. When he gives us his name and the most wonderful of job titles I’ve ever heard, he has me staring at him with my heart quivering, set to burst for the sheer thrill it experiences at the thought.

His playful wink alludes to the fact that he is only jesting, but my young mind runs with the notion, pulls me into more dreams of adventure and conquest.

Erebos pauses alongside me for a moment, his next words pulling my eyes to him with as much tact as I can to not give away the game he has started; Ignatius? Wasn’t that one of the big names from our historical annals, some really important unicorn guy?

I look back at the members of the Throat with a friendly smile glued on my face, leaning a shoulder into Aithniel to hopefully imply that I want to play along, too.


"I’m his cousin, Dristan," I lie, using the first name that comes to my mind (a ploy on my grandmother’s name, in fact), feeling the giggles rise in my throat though I try to refrain from revealing the game, a glorious light burning in my eyes at the great amusement of this game, "and this is my sister, Amaryllis." I’d heard the name of the flower from momma earlier that week and thought it was pretty, and it was close enough to Aithniel that maybe she wouldn’t take offense to me picking her fake name for her. It was only a temporary guise, after all – surely she couldn’t get too mad, right?

"We wanted to see the desert, so we came," I explain, blinking drips of salty, painful sweat from my eyes, "it’s really hot this far south. How do you keep from sweating yourself to death? How do you find water out here? I haven’t seen any for ages. Do you just catch the rain in your mouths?"

A horrified look crosses my face as a thought and subsequent question finds its way into my mind.

"Does it rain here?"