"Black calls," Kygo informed Ampere as they wandered morosely through the desert. He'd been more daring as of late with talking to her. For a while, int he wake of Gaucho's death, he'd fallen more silent, fearful of what exactly was happening to his bonded. He had seen her grieve, he had seen her lost, but this had been something else entirely. Yet the season spent in such a state had worn on the bird's patience, and much like he poked and prodded her while they'd been feral beyond Helovia, so he hoped to do the same again and return her to what she should be.

So again he said, "black calls," with just a touch of authority to his tone. At this Ampere's head inclined towards the bird that glided just above her head, her left eye holding him firm. "I heard you the first time, but that means nothing to me." Black? Black what for Sun God's sake? Kygo chirrups, unabashed, pressing the blue mare further. "HERD," he insists, smartly flying up a bit higher in case Ampere decided to get physical. "What does that mean!?" she snapped in response, halting as she narrowed her gaze to trace the bird.

The conure, exasperated at her thickheaded nature and his lack of language, attempted to have her follow him instead. Of course, asking her to follow him would make the mare walk int he opposite direction (as he'd learned before), so he had to toe the line of this argument, just enough to keep her salted, but not too much that she began ignoring him. All he needed was to turn her anyway, she could wander the rest of the way. So he tugged at her mane, pulling out a precious feather, which riled the mare and instigated a chase.

As they neared Kygo relinquished the feather and flew on ahead, knowing he ought to give Ampere space after a stunt like that. Meanwhile Ampere, grumbling as her electricity worked the feather back into her mane, ambled forward in half-hearted pursuit. She was tired. Even duking it out with Kygo wore on her. Though hardly noticeable under the winter coat, Ampere had grown thin and gaunt. She didn't train much any more, and she barely ate. She spent most of her days in the company of the Gaucho-golem, and though she didn't often cry anymore, she still felt caught in a murk of despair for his parting. The only thing that seemed to rouse her from her somber cocoon was rage, but anger is a fire that burns as quickly as it burns brilliant, and its energy quickly spent and returned her to ash. Searching for Tae's stolen good stoked her far longer than anything else so far, but as they continued to search without success, the logs of failure quickly smothered Ampere instead of igniting her.

It was why she had been apathetic to the call Nephele raised to begin with. Normally, Ampere would have been attentive, quick to arrive and discuss, but now, even as the black mare (it makes sense now), comes into view as Ampere moves forward - even as her words shudder down Ampere's ears as she sways to a halt - she is not roused. There is agreement within her; after all she knew better than some, having been personally affected by their lack of stealth protection, serving as a deadweight warrior (but no Gladiator has kicked her ass yet), and having to shuffle along in constant pain for the absence of healers they had (Megaera had given her a few long lasting injuries).

Though Ampere agreed, she wasn't sure Nephele was a good choice. She recognized the mare, she'd been a warrior for quite some time, yet Ampere couldn't say she knew the mare despite the years they had lived alongside each other. What had Nephele made of her name, of her rank, before? Nothing, Ampere thinks, remembering their unfinished fight and her hounding of her lazy warriors in seasons past. What good would it be to put a carbon copy of Sikeax into the other mantle? Yet Ampere can't seem to care enough to voice these things, can't find an anger to wake her from her sorrows, even if part of her recoils from the direction the herd is headed, not only for Gaucho's name, but for her own love of the place.

"Speak," Kygo demands in her mind from his perch in a tree. Ampere's head raises faintly, searching for the bird, but its halfhearted. "Speak!" he demands again, their soul-bound link pulsing with a magenta ire. Ampere snorts.

"Sohalia," she says, voice cracking somewhat, dried. "Sohalia would be better suited as lead," she says at least, meaning no ill will, only weighing the better options of the herd.