It had been a long, long time ago since her own hooves caused a sound in the Threshold, and if she was honest with herself — she hadn't exactly been in that much of a rush to come back. Odd eyes spied Atreus with a noticeable edge of envy, his small feathered form easily flitted around and under anything that appeared in his path. Each branch which curled it's gnarled branches outward and upward painted a cage in her mind, her wings forced to fit snuggly against her side until she turned and left once more. Yes, she much preferred the open air and freedoms that lay outside of this chokehold.

She knew the state of the Throat wasn't an ideal home to offer to recruits, but they suffered. Ranks were open wounds, and some had chosen to leave for the mainland in the turbulance. For whatever reason they had, selfish or selfless, she couldn't blame them for leaving despite the way her mouth twinged downward. If she was not the way she was, and had not sown her very heart strings into the canyon walls and strung the organ there forevermore, she might've entertained that itch of migration. She wanted better for their home, and she wanted better for all that lived or would live there.

It's Atreus that alerted her to the gathered just beyond where her eyes could see clearly, his light hued body a stark contrast to the dark bark he landed upon, red rimmed eyes fixated on the bodies. More importantly, it was the way he punctuated his emotion through that bond, which told him he spied someone familiar. An all too familiar voice as of late floated into her ears, and a small smile appeared on her lips. Sohalia too had the same idea, it seemed and she sped up just enough to enter the gathered area just after the arrival of the blue mare.

Her head dipped in greeting toward her fellow herd member as she stopped beside her.  An odd gathering indeed, she mused in silence as Atreus dropped from the branch he was on and straight onto her withers. Two others who were not of their homeland, she would of remembered such unusual colours and patterns, but no doubt here with the same intentions in mind. "You're in the Threshold, the gateway to Helovia. It's an unfortunate thing that everyone goes through. There's no way around it, believe me many have tried." She had, just as many others who came into the land did. No one liked to be stuck in the Threshold for longer than they had to be, most would of successfully avoided it if they could. "Me and my herdmate are from the Dragon's Throat, an island to the south of here. Sun, sand, fire, water, plenty of those things." Along with a lot of drama, despair, figuring out if your dad is the dad of your next door neighbor and the occasional drunken mare — but hey, that was all part of the charm.



"Speech."