The casual banter that seemed to line the very beginnings of a conversation between the three winged Helovians and the curious tree-girl began to wane almost as quickly as it had begun. Thickly furred ears swivelled with interest as the more solidly black stallion gave up his name properly (at last), and so too the name of his herd which lay apparently to the south. Automatically Fig’s twitching lips turned in that direction as though the trees might part considerately and allow her clear view of... whatever a Dragon’s Throat may look like. They did no such thing however, and though bright green eyes traced only the lines of the old ragged bark trunks, quite a phenomenal visualization materialised through her mind.

She mused in silence while Bucephalus offered the other female a place to stay, playing with a farfetched idea that dragons still larger than the scarlet serpent who accompanied Resplendence (perhaps far grander as well), might guard the mouth of a den, a throat, something most terrifying and certainly not the place a Lignea would be naturally drawn to. She recalled the darkness her one-eared friend had described – the way it had forced the population beneath the earth – and Fig shivered uncomfortably. Before she knew it, the young creature’s soft, fluttering nostrils were nearing the speckling of gold on black to scent for mould or mildew – any trace of the cavernous, cold dwelling she had imagined.

She knew not how common that misconception really was!

Thoughtfully she sighed and the mental picture promptly disintegrated. Bucephalus described then a location that was everything but what she had perceived – warm and wonderful, he explained. Fig’s large eyes held him inquisitively, captivated, as Astrid introduced herself awkwardly, suddenly, and finally the silver-collared man spoke.

The stallion voiced his agreement as though Dragon’s Throat might be even a place he might have enjoyed; he introduced himself also as Midas, from another land called Hidden Falls. Fig’s overly concerned focus zoned in quickly as he spoke. It seemed to be an invitation to her also which was lovely and she might have asked at that point just how many homes were spread throughout Helovia – how many bodies occupied them – but the mare who seemed to be the central focus of Bucephalus (according to Fig), began to speak again instead.

A tranquil smile completed the patient expression which leaked though the Lignea’s expression and she watched on quietly, waiting and learning.

She glanced up momentarily as the cold wintry wind bothered her lavish, long and leafy canopy. The sheet of grey clouds had mostly dissolved from the sky, and a bright clear day seemed to smile down through the sparse forest awning upon her. Fig was still thirsty; the air she inhaled was dry, burning. She wondered vaguely whether Hidden Falls might be less distance to travel for a drink than the Edge – home seemed such a long way away, and though she preferred the company of the forest to any other in truth, their tangling arms would only be a hindrance this time.

“I am sure the herd (it still sounded so alien), where I live could use any help you are willing to give. I assure you Astrid, nights spent in the mists of our forest are beautiful, magical, and the days are alive with activity. My friends, I’m sure, would welcome you...” she went on to name a few with a broadening, fond smile, “Resplendence, Thor, Murdock, Kahlua...” and really, those were all that she knew. Fig shrugged her sloping, root encased shoulders lightly, revelling in the light mood of the group.

@[Bucephalus]