Einarr had not travelled far from his new herdland, but it was time for the stallion to stretch his inky wings and explore the territories around him. The beast rose with the sun, red-brown eyes taking in the beauty of a desert sunrise. He was glad to find a place that resembled his past so deeply, if only in the essence of its appearance. The warrior had not had the opportunity yet to truly dive into herd politics and discover where he would fit in, but that would come in due time. For now, he merely needed to become familiar with his surroundings. After all, he was a warrior, and if his past proved anything to solidify a warrior's mindset in his nature, he would be patrolling the land and warding off potential dangers to his herdmates. He was already given a small kiss of the tenacity that the pegasi (he assumed all the Throat were pegasi, for that was all he had met) of his new herd possessed. The bay mare that had greeted him at the heart fire was feisty, and fiercely protective of her home. But Einarr found bits of foolishness in her, or perhaps lack in the fortification of border protection. She had been so quick to throw stones at him, and Einarr found that odd. If he was in their herdland already, would he not be a welcomed member? Or had this Dragon's Throat had a surge of border disrespect that he did not know of? Either way, there was correction waiting to happen. Einarr would be glad to help instill that. Once a warden always a warden.

With the Throat to his back, Einarr soared on a warm current. He revelled in the feeling of the warm air running between his feathers. It was extremely pleasant for the warrior to stretch his wings and be free to fly to his heart's content. He felt most at home in the sky, especially in combat. His aerial war skills were that to be envied. He was a master of the air, ready to take everything in stride. Here, his size was not as much of a hinderance on him towards his opponents, although he was quite nimble on his cloven hooves while grounded. Einarr, the epitome of balanced, was large and strong and elegant. His hooves and legs moved with a waterlike grace that his ancestors had given him, and the stallion was quite used to dancing in the solstice ceremonies of his home. His shoulders and hips were strong, his chest deep, able to throw out powerful blows and leave his opponents in his dust. Despite this, however, the white-marked man was quite the magnificent sight to behold as he soared through the clouds.

Now, however, Einarr was descending. His massive, strong left wing dipped and he let his legs dangle some away from his underbelly. Below him was something great of sorts, something he was not completely sure of, and he needed to explore. Landing, albeit with a large thud of his cloven hooves, the stallion folded his wings and moved towards the mouth of what he assumed was a deep catacomb of twists and turns. He eyed the mouth skeptically, sniffing and snorting around the entrance. He was wary to travel into the darkness, into a place of suffocation and isolation where he could not escape into the skies.

[ @[Gaucho] -- but also open!]