It was growing darker as the time passed. Frostfall caused the time of day to seemingly drift away each passing second. Each day shorter than the last. Each moment feeling quicker than the last. It was almost an uneasy feeling for the Pegasus. He had forgotten how short winters could be, ever since he had left Helovia. Upon his return caused many rather still fresh wounds to open. If it weren’t for Antaa, he probably would’ve hidden himself away further. He couldn’t, not now. Not with a screeching companion by his side, learning to hunt and fly on her own. It was easier for him to try and teach her to fly when he was in his Phoenix form. Two Phoenix’s flying side by side, it almost seemed surreal. Yet, the burning flames from Darwin illuminated the fading light like it were day again as the two descended into the Deep Forest.

As he shifted back into his normal pristine ivory form, he tucked his wings into his sides, looking back to Antaa happily fluttering above his back. The feeling of her wings flapping against the chill in the wind sent a shiver down his spine as she seemed to purposefully blow the frostbitten wind at the ivory stallion. He grumbled to her, rolling river stone eyes, before the phoenix settled down along his mane, tangling her talons into snow colored tresses. She seemed content, clicking her beak every now and then, seeming to chatter to herself. Darwin still hadn’t any idea what she was saying, but he could understand her feelings further. She was growing more prideful every passing day. It was a feeling he could understand. When you came from something so small to become inevitably a force to be reckoned with.

He passed her a sigh, an ear flickering back in annoyance as they passed through the shadowed trees. Many of them he had seen before leaving. The towers of foliage lived a lifetime before he was even born, not even batting an eye at the creatures that came and went. Aside from the few that had fallen, that he took care in stepping over. Feathered hooves getting stuck on branches that poked out was quite possibly one of the least fun things on his list. He hated pulling out the leaves from his feet. He also hated preening his feathers. But there was something about him where he always wanted to look clean and perfect. He had always wanted to be that picture image of perfection. Whether it was out on the battlefield where his once strong and toned muscles rippled beneath ivory hide. Ever since his return to Helovia, he hadn’t battled much at all, but he knew he could be at least slightly prepared for the unexpected. At least he hoped he would be.

"Talk."