The chick, as he so fondly called her in his mind, squabbled on, Darwin began to try and focus on other things. Antaa spent a few moments of pause, preening a feather here and there before chatting on about something else and something more. Images flash into his mind and he almost falters in his step, watching as she gave him pictures of her hunt. A grimace reached the bearded man’s muzzle briefly before he shook his head. He tried to block the images out, but still show pride to her. His wings relaxed slightly, the ivory tips brushing by his knees as he walked on.

Yet, the stallion faltered in his step once more as a sound erupted from the woods. Ivory ears flitting back and forth in uncertainty of what that creature might be. Better off, what he’s after. The sound died, but it still didn’t keep Darwin from losing his edge. His wings lifted tightly against his back, pulled in sharply to his sides. Antaa began to puff out behind him, watching the woods with wide eyes wondering what might come to them. She had grown silent then, watching and waiting as her ride stopped in place. Unsure of whether or not he should continue, Darwin took measured breaths, watching the breaks in the trees for any form of movement.

But it wasn’t movement he received. It was his name. His head flung in the direction of where the sound had come from, a shadow of a figure staring straight at him. Half of his face mutilated in a grotesque vision. There was a younger beast that strode behind the man as well. Darwin’s eyes strayed away from the man with the destroyed face to the smaller beast beside him only to return and do the same thing over again. His brows furrowed slightly as he shifted his weight, Antaa began to look upset – mimicking Darwin’s feeling exactly. ‘Who was this man, and how did he know my name?’ Ran through his head. Where Darwin was great at hiding his feelings behind his mask, Antaa seemed to display them perfectly in her stance and flames as they grew slightly brighter.

“Uh, can I help you?” His eyes lingered on the man with the mutilated face, his voice a deep rumble leaving his chest. “I don’t think we’ve met, so how do you know my name?” He questioned, cocking his head in an almost degrading manner. His eyes hardened on the stallion. When he had left, he had merely been a bay colt that couldn’t fly. Who could even remember that well, anyway? He had grayed out immensely. Perhaps it was someone closer than he thought. If only he knew.

"Talk."