Sikeax

Quiet for the whole way, listening to the sounds that arose from movements of others. Occasional snorts, a nicker given when it felt needed, the swish of a tail swatting out the biting flies that she was not even spared from, filled her ears, alerting her that no members had been lost along the way. Three faces, unknown to her, brought themselves along.
The small hybrid colt had brought her attention when he had come behind her, his small frame worrisome. She wanted to speak to him, but as her lips had opened to offer some kindness that was coming in with her usual emotion, the outburst from the vibrant, pastel mare had hushed her. Remaining cranky after an awakening she was aware no rude was meant, the odd shaded unicorn instantly brought dislike to her. Yes, she would speak her time to strangers, mainly so they may find it easier to trust her, but blasting it would to a group left Sikeax with unneeded amounts of surprise. Sacre and Inari had come after, and for the boisterous woman, it was good fortune.
Now, after Africa's words to her had been settling, a gentle smile handed to in return to show she meant no ill to her sister(she felt bold in thinking that, but as the single winged had called her, she felt it was normal to call her as well), her lips sealed themselves. Nothing came to her to show that she had come here before. Grass turned to stone, and when she felt that the clouds would come to them soon, brought herself down to the earth, and relaxed.
As if to be on cue, the clouds gathered, glazing moisture across her pelt, pulling her upwards when they felt she was ready. Faint breaths of wind ruffled the messy locks of her hair, tail already soaking in the wet. Her ride was short, standing when the cloud did allow her to do so, placing wobbly legs that had grown too relaxed during the ride. Africa speaks, talking about Sohalia. Sikeax paid no mind to the absence of her other leader. She knew better than to seek out those on top to make sure she wasn't bothering them, and Sohalia was not taken off that list. The Swan of the Dragon's Throat would come soon.
Nodding to answer, lips still quiet, she strolls closer to her lead with a light gait. Moving onwards without the others would be rude, though there were already others she wouldn't mind leaving.

"If you could hear me then, can you hear me now?"

In winter, some voices are like coats - Mosteghanemi