Vultures. They were persistent, sharp, feathery and utterly unwelcome at this time. Loud screeches emanate from the golden dragon, spurts of fire directed at the birds in attempts to deter them from their intent upon her bonded, and herself. Annoyance swelled up in Mirage, but she cooled her nerves, merely focussed her stride and weaved herself away from their grasps - though the beaks still stung at her sides when she did not move swiftly enough. A sharp kick was directed at them, not intending to strike, just to scare them away. She did not need such hassles in a race that was meant to test one's endurance and agility at the same time.

Golden eyes tracked the strong form of her brothers as they weaved their dance ahead of herself and some others, also tracking the path of Kiara and Aaron fondly. Affections will do you no good, focus! Akaith's direct voice sounded loudly within her cranium, it was a command the bonded was compelled to obey immediately.

With a renewed surge she found herself crossing the edge of the Thistle Meadow and Deep Forest, their path angling North. The mare was grateful to the wintry coat that slowly made her hide thicker - not to mention, ever since gaining the magic that allowed her to find her 'other' self, she had rarely felt 'cold', no matter the weather. The air grew frigid, the mare was sure to breath only through her nostrils as the nares would ensure warmed air made it to her lungs and did not send her bodice into cold shock. Olfactory receptors tingled in her nose as she absorbed the change in the lands by scent, barely allowing her eyes to focus on anything bar the track she ran.

The Frostbreath Steppe. It was a land she had performed a dance upon, a dance far more intense and longer lasting then their lengthy sprint around the great bowl of permafrost. Snow was whisked up by her hooves, and the hooves that ran previous to her, she did her best to avoid the parts that would turn into slippery slush, and soon become icy when it refroze. She checked her speed for this reason, though she longed to win, she had no desire to break a limb for her win. Accuracy was better than breakneck speed that could indeed, break one's neck.

Sweat dampened her hide, the trek was a long one, she was glad to have the company of so many familiar faces in the race with her, but for the most part she was grateful to Akaith. The dragon could see from her vantage point in the skies, any reflective bits of snow that indicated ice, and relayed that information to Mirage, so that the mare might avoid it more easily. With a warmed sense of comradery, the mare pushed onwards, her path eventually curving south, back to warmer parts, but no less treacherous, she was sure.