The colt's young limbs - still weak and spindly, not yet coated with the muscle that will one day haul him across the ground without a care - thrash as much as they can, but their beats grow slower as exhaustion coats him like a blanket. The waves push against him, trying to pull his head under; his sodden wings are like lead weights on his back. He thinks of Mother, and hopes she won't blame herself for his death - he thinks of Esi, and his heart lurches as he realises what his demise will do to her. They are one, and without him she will never be the same again...

HEAD UP!

It's a voice; is it the voice of Heaven? Is he already dead? But no, it's his father, his ave, the khal, his wings aflame, his strength defiant. Hope flares through the calf as the anxious beats of his legs grow stronger again, as if drawing from the mere presence of the man who made him. "Ave!" he gargles through the water that fills his throat, his young brow furrowed into determination as he forces his head to stay above the water. He can't die, not when his Father is here, the Wildfire, the man who can save anybody.

Suddenly, Gaucho is underneath him; Arakh's exhausted limbs touch the stallion's broad back as Gaucho thrusts him upwards and towards the shore. He crashes against pebbles and rocks, grazing his knees and jarring his muscles, but the ground has never felt so good. The colt simply lays there a moment, revelling in the fact he's alive, marvelling at his own existence. He's too tired to stand, so he simply rests against the stones, his sparrow's chest heaving up and down with the force of his breaths. He shifts his eyes towards Gaucho, feeling shame burn against the backs of his lids. Mother had been right. He shouldn't have left her. He should have stayed in the Edge, as he was told.

He blinks sadly towards his father, hoping he isn't going to be too angry. "Mai told Arakh not to leave Edge, but Arakh want to see Ave alone. Arakh think, flying not look so hard...Arakh wrong." The colt can feel himself shivering as the water dries against his skin. It's not a cold day by any means, but he is unused to regulating his own temperature when he normally has his mother to snuggle into. The shock adds to his quivers, as he tries not to contemplate how close he came to dying. "Arakh sorry." Shamefaced, he stares at the ground near to Gaucho, humililation burning through him.