Meg hadn’t intended to need her armor when she had donned it that morning. IT was new to her, but the seasoned leather was still molded to the one who’d worn it before and needed time to stretch and settle to the same of its new bearer. The warrior needed to get used to her new war-cloak as well, the weight, and movement were all foreign to her, but by the time she had to use them in battle she wanted it to feel like a second skin.

Her new suit was not the only thing that needed adjusting to, though the thick leather straps that ran over her shoulders made an ideal place for her precious little charge to perch. Barely a week old, and still and awkward pile of fluffy white down, little Gwaihir perched happily between his bonded’s wings for their first flight together. Meg sailed smoothly over the trees, keeping her pace slow and easy so as not to jostle the chick, and smiled at the delighted little chirruping noises he made. They couldn’t yet communicate with words like she knew others could, but the mare was still in awe of the power of her connection with the little hatchling. She could feel the ebb and flow of the emotions that moved between them, the need, the love. That love surprised her, shocked her, for it had come so quick and fierce that it rivaled her love for her desert home. it this what a mother feels like? she sometimes wondered for even though they were not bound by flesh, she knew in her deepest set of knowledge that she and he were bound by souls.

Angry shouts and pained shrieks interrupted the happy flight as the pair sailed across the tree line and over the sandy stretch of beach. Two figures, one a child, were being herded along the sands by a brutal-looking mob. PROTECT! the instinct flared in Megaera like a fiercely kindled flame, she knew neither victims nor the perpetrators but whatever the circumstance whatever was going on here was wrong!. As she realized exactly what she was witnessing, another figure graced the scene below. Ampere! The thunderbird landed before the mob, standing alone in opposition of cruelty and Meg’s instincts commanded her to race to stand beside her sword-sister.

A nervous chirp from her shoulder stopped Meg dead in her need to surge forward. Gwaihir was tiny, defenseless, and whatever the provocation, the mare would not put him in harm’s way! She landed, not at immediately at Ampere’s side like she wanted, but circled back to the edge of the treeline. A low tree created the perfect hiding spot for him, and as quickly as she could while still being gentle with the fragile chick, chivied him off her leather covered shoulders and into a fork of wooden limbs. “Stay, Gwaihir!” She half commanded, half pleaded, not knowing how much he could understand of her words. And turned, taking to the air once more.

She raced back to the scene, skimming low across the sands. In the moments it had taken her to hide little Gwaihir, a young falcon had descended to land on the Gladiator. Surely not hers… Meg flicked her eyes up to a dark shape that circled above. Did that make it three against eight or two against nine? Either way it was stupid, but doing nothing clearly wasn’t an option as far as the blue and the bay were concerned. Meg landed at Ampere’s side, back shrouded in its thick leather case, armed with bony tines along the spine and face shielded in shiny steel. Her posture mirrored Ampere’s and she aimed a threatening glare between the armored leader and the painted pegasus directly in front of her and positively growled, “This will not be tolerated.”