It was a good time to be in Dragon’s Throat. Tallsun had seemed to infuse the desert with its own harsh beauty. The afternoon sun might be unforgiving, but between the Earth God and their own Patron, it was exactly as it should be. When the Earth God had set his tasks and gathered all of Helovia upon his great ark, Megaera had worried for the fate of her desert home, but it had been restored much as it had been, if not better. It somehow seemed… cleaner than it had. A fresh renewal after a Frostfall and Birdsong that had been tainted by the grip of fear that had effected them all so closely.

Dragon’s Throat was rising.

With the first dawn of the summer season they had prayed together, and bit by bit they continued to heal and rebuild their lives. Even in the shifting sands, there was a solid foundation, a heart that beat in the herd that had not been shaken or torn asunder. Meg took and immense pride in that. That she could be a part of that, could protect it, meant everything to her and she relished in her work.

She was coming off patrol when the sun began to rise. The sands were pink in the slanting light of dawn, but the Oasis was a welcome sight as she crested a nearby dune. It had been a quiet night on the eastern shores and she returned eager to greet the day and find some hours for time with her herdmates in the cool of the oasis. It was comfortably warm now in the early morning, but their fierce sun would be on then before too long. She moved into the cover of the trees, picking up her feet with each step in her usual jaunty gait. At the eastern edge, she gave the report of her hours and passed the baton of vigilance to the next set of patrollers as they made their way out.

First things first! to thought to herself and craned he neck around so she could nose through the feathers as the base of her right wing and inspect the precious cargo there. The egg seemed tiny, even smaller that her hoof, but she kept it close without fully understanding why. She know of course the basic ins and out of eggs, keeping it warm, etcetera, but that didn’t explain what had made her stop at the ruined nest and take the egg. For nearly two weeks she had kept it tucked under her wing, almost sure that she had been too late to save it but unable to justify casting it away. She wasn’t particularly maternal as far as mars went (protective, yes, but in more of a warrior’s fashion than a mothers) but there was still some unaccountable tug at her heartstrings for this lonely little, brown-speckled orb. To days before, her patients had been rewarded with the smallest flutter of sound from inside the egg so she was sure it couldn't be long now.

Tags: @[Hector] @[Cera]
Notes: Three Musketeers Time!
”Talk talk talk”