His ears prick forwards as Gaucho speaks of the Sun God. Light and fire. He knows nothing of light, but fire....fire is the most majestic, the most destructive, of all the elements. A God that controls fire...of course Arakh will worship him. Mother has shown him her magic - her electricity, flesh-sizzling power that makes his hair stand on end, but it is nothing compared to the pure, raw rage of fire.

Arakh hopes that, one day, he will be blessed by this Sun God's gifts as well. He thinks this, of course, without knowing that he already carries the Sun's power in his veins.

His father ponders for a moment over how long he has ruled here, then simply answers with years. The colt nods his bull-horned head sagely, not quite comprehending how long years are, but knowing they're long. He begins to scan the area as they walk towards some varying-sized dunes, perfect for launching oneself one to try and catch the air. For the first time, nerves begin to pulse around the calf's system and his ears wobble anxiously on top of his head as he looks between the dunes. What if he makes a fool of himself in front of his idolised father? What if Gaucho sends him back to the Edge with his tail between his legs, because his wings don't work as they should?

He shivers, despite the heat in the Throat, and listens intently to his sire's words. His fretting is somewhat allayed when Gaucho says he will always be family, even if he lives in the Edge, but he can't help but wonder if the Wildfire would still say that after he witnessed his son faceplant a sand dune after a failed flight.

Gaucho easily ascends a frighteningly tall dune, and Arakh scampers up it after him with as much energy as he can muster. He slips and slides on the sand and has to bat his wings to steady himself, but manages not to fall over in his eagerness to impress, even though he's breathing heavily by the time he reaches the top. He glances down and smothers a gulp as he realises how high they are - the sand doesn't look nearly as soft from up here. But his sire's instructions are clear, and his demonstration even moreso. He makes it look easy, and Arakh wonders if Gaucho once stood atop a dune with his own father, quivering anxiously and praying he would not shame his family name.

Deciding that his worrying will only get worse if he waits, the bull-calf launches into a gangly canter. He concentrates on his father's words, spreads his wings, and resolutely doesn't look down. He keeps his eyes trained forwards, and suddenly his hooves aren't on sand anymore, they're on air, and this flight feels far steadier than his over-eager flutter into the ocean a few minutes ago. He tilts his feathered appendages, feels the breeze beneath them, and allows himself to be carried across the sand. His weight soon gets the better of him and he softly drifts to the ground, but it's far more elegant than his splashy dismount into the sea.

Euphoria grips him, and he bounces happily towards his father. "Arakh flew! What Ave think?" He looks adoringly upwards, waggling his bottlebrush of a tail eagerly.