He flutters like a butterfly caught in a web, excited and uncertain, his body shifting eagerly beneath the weight of her onyx eyes. For a moment she fears he will dart away from her, that somehow he knows of her past crimes and sins; she fears she will be left alone in this slender group of strangers and lost friends, cast out among her 'family' and left behind once more. Melodramatic, her brother yawns, disgruntled and grumpy with the girl's state of mind.

And once more he is right, for the boy speaks at last, youthful voice returning the memory's promise. She wonders if it is not quite a lie from him, too, and chooses to believe that in fact it is. She uses this as fodder in her fight with Natraj- I can be positive, she tells him, and he does not reply. Instead he leaps toward her shoulder, long claws sinking into the tangle of braids, and pulls himself up to sit on her back. His talons leave winces though do not draw blood; he has not been careful, and settles into the small of her back. Behind a shield of tails he continues to brood, grumpy and unsatisfied with the girl's morose mind.

She is saved from her inability to think of something more to say, rescued by Africa's tale of a piece of the earth, dislodged into sky. Bold eyes open wide at the words, amazement skirting across her face- the concept is novel, beyond novel, it is unfathomable, unheard of, and fills girl and boy with unquenchable excitement and a thirst to know more. A gift from the Sun... of course it must be, for who but her God could create something so great, a segment of world risen high into heavens? Her hooves ache to start on the long journey there, and as they begin she quick to fall in stride, though she lingers at the side of the frail little boy.

From sand bridge to stone the small troupe treks along, an odd group to be sure: four youths led by two misfits, the loud purple mare and the one-winged lead. A thin line stained by crimson and copper and navy and steel, the children march on through the whisper of sun, until finally they come to the isle of Gods: and then, only then, does the real fun begin.

Just as they wonder how any of them are going to get to the surface (for surely even Kari's wings are not enough to sustain long flight), clouds bloom at the girl's gold hocks, wrapping them in a cold embrace before shifting to solid and lifting her mass. She gasps, and the air catches tight in her throat, emerging as mixture of laughter and choke. Around her the world is falling away, and she watches it eagerly, greed in her eyes, wind in her hair and and a grin on her face. We're flying! she thinks, and she wants to call Sacre- but she stops in the process, remembering there's a chance they're no longer friends. Instead she turns her black gaze to the colt, brilliant excitement dimmed only in slight, and as they land on the ground she graces him with a radiant smile, wistful envy lacing the dark alto tones. "I wish I could fly," she murmurs, gaze drifting from him to the blank sky beyond. "That was amazing."

She follows the group but straggles behind, still unable to draw her thoughts away from the world. Green grass fades away to reveal a tent, and she pauses belatedly, nearly colliding with a tall iron pole. Embarrassed, she backs hastily away, pleasantly surprised to find Kari once more by her side: a shadow, she thinks, unaware of the quiet irony inside that thought. Africa speaks, and she wonders where Sohalia is, why she did not come when the herd was called- and where Andromeda is, too, and the filly Amani, and the countless unnamed others who reside in the Throat.

And then Sacre laughs, and she echoes, "Me too!" boldly, thoughtlessly, flushed with excitement and the sound of her own voice. She has no idea what many of the strange structures are for, but she wants to find out- and more, more than that, she wants to keep flying, to feel her heart lurch as she falls and ascends on the weight of a cloud.