Take me to the end so I can see the start

Why do you not go? The eagle asked, watching his bonded through keen golden eyes. Though her knew her heart--her soul--as well as his own, still he was wary in a relapse in her resolve. She had been convinced to stay here, and he had Ampere to thank for that, but if Megaera became skittish the blue wasn't on hand to yank her back again. There had been too many changes in his Meg recently, to much heartbreak, too much doubt but at last she was where he knew she belonged. Megaera knew it too, but until she could rebuild herself it was up to Gwaihir to see she remembered that there was no place for them but the sands of Dragon's Throat. 

"Prisoners don't go to meetings." She muttered to him, somewhat absently. From her position on one of the higher dunes she was scanning the horizon, looking to be sure her youngest children had found their way home. Castor, of course, was romping around the arena but she still needed to be sure Vastra had come back too. 

Einarr hadn't come after her when she had failed to meet him at the Heart. Ampere had stopped her a little too forcefully. She tried not to think about her husband's reaction, tried not to think about how it had been he who had suggested she leave in the first place...

That is folly. Foolishness. You are here. You must be here. A year ago Meg might have smirked at the Eagle, teased him but now here gaze was steady, searching as she turned to him. She was only "prisoner" for a day, or so Ampere had said, but Meg wouldn't put it past her sand sister ti drag her sorry bay ass back again and again. Megaera would stay, by the Sun God, she would give her last breath to the Throat someday, but just because Ampere had didn't mean the rest would take her back into their fold. The former Sultana was resolved not to run from herself or her fears but that did not yet erase all she had done and failed to do. "They might not want me there." Your heart is made of this sand, anyone who says differently can shove their heads up their own asses.

And so she went.

Her pace was slow, each step jarring her supremely tender ribs--besides the bruising she was beginning to suspect that one of them had been cracked with Ampere's last kick. Her front legs were also far from healed, the skin scrapped away and now starting to scab over from here forearms down to her cannons. The shallow cut across her cheek had bled but turned out to be rather superficial; another scar to add with the rest and it would be a cherished one at that, like the four on her shoulder had become. The battered bay let herself fall in line beside Ampere and the eagle descended to land gingerly upon her hindquarters.

She did not thrust herself into the conversation as she might once have done (might have led the conversation if she had still been Sultana) but she listened. Her guilt compounded, though she was grateful and a little surprised that her name was not brought up in the placing of blame when it came to the herd's decline after Gaucho's passing. She should have been here, if Megaera had not been seeking her daughter when the Wildfire had passed, maybe she could have held on to the reins and kept them all together. It seemed to Meg that she'd been right in her thought that in the herd's eyes her power had been sourced from Gaucho's will and not held in her own right, but Meg could not bring herself to be angry at them for that feeling anymore.

The notion of appointing a second lead arose, and she focused in on Sohalia's passing description of her recent absentee demotion. "Break the chain of warrior leads..." because Megaera had been the weak link in that chain. She would have to throw herself at the Sun's mercy sooner or later for failing him thus. Her dark eyes fell carefully on Sikeax, and still could make no conclusion but a bubbling mistrust that Einarr had planted in her mind. The healer who didn't heal Gaucho Meg would happily replace her with Sohalia, but for now there was only one name that burned in her heart when she pictured someone worthy of being called Sultan.

"Cera. Cera should be Sultan. As our forger he has been dedicated, and hardworking, and who better to build the Throat up again, hone it to what it should be. He has never shirked his duty, has never wavered in love or loyalty. Again and again Helovia has faced darkness--the Throat has faced darkness and he has never run, never hidden from doing what is right. I know of none here who are more dedicated to the Sun, to this herd, than he. Cera should lead you. Lead us. " Every word she believed to be true; they were not formed from guilt or from hope of earning his forgiveness those both burned inside of her. Cera was the best of them. He was strong, and loyal and good. When she finally looked toward Cera she tried to say so much more to him. I am sorry, my friend, for the pain I have caused. I was wrong. I am here. I am sorry.

take me where the fire still owns its spark

there's only one way to mend a broken heart

Megaera