Mauja the FrostHeart
ice cold man watches earth die, eternal winter takes its reign

As long as the Order of the Sun had taken up residence in the Dragon's Throat, there wasn't really any way that Mauja would've taken his spotted, frosty self near their south end of Helovia. But, now that the birds sang songs of an invasion, he was, naturally, curious. Birds sometimes distorted their pretty tales, and not amount of singing could replace the accuracy with which a diplomatic envoy investigated the sources of these songs. And that, my singing little friends, was why Mauja the FrostHeart himself was hoofing it across Helovia to say hello to his winged, uhm, brethren? No. Laughable.

Mauja wasn't interested in the Pegasus or their survival - he was interested in maintaining a necessary peace until he was strong enough (and they weak enough) to crush them. The King wasn't one to take unnecessary risks, and frankly, not peering in at these Pegasus upstarts would be a loss on his part. This way, he could assess their numbers, forge a faux peace, and not give them reason to come flying in over his forest. He also happened to be of the opinion that the least funny species to push over the Edge was a Pegasus. They had wings and could fly, so it sort of ruined the point of pushing them off cliffs. He tossed his pale head and brandished his horn, annoyed, at the hot sun. Wings were ugly, but he was a fool if he'd deny their usefulness. The playing field would be evened with them out of the picture, and although he was eager to see that come to happen, he wasn't going to be a fool.

Damn. As if it wasn't warm enough already, the landscape turned even more arid as he passed the Heart; it smoldered on the horizon, and while it hadn't been exactly a tropical level of fertility behind him, in front of him the far horizon turned to red rocks. Mauja was eager to be out of the heat, but also unsure of how far to approach - how far was appropriate? Too shallow and incursion and he'd risk not being spotted until a very diligent border patrol came around. Too deep, and it was rude and put him at a disadvantage when negotiating. He knew that a more fertile section rested further in, but how far did the Pegasus count as theirs? All of it? The unicorn King frowned, but decided to push his luck a little. He didn't want to stand around in a wasteland all day, even if it meant crossing onto their territory - horses didn't really use scent marked borders the way for example canines did, so it was hard to tell. It was more of a .. cultural border, he guessed. It probably depended on the current leader's ego.

Snorting, Mauja broke into a trot. His hooves shifted from steppe onto rocks, and he felt definitely out of place as the hollow noise rang out. He was a unicorn of the forest. He lived in a forest. He could hide in a forest. He couldn't hide out here, and slowly resigned himself to the fate of sticking out like a sore thumb.

All for the sake of having a peaceful conversation with a Pegasus. Surely he was having a heat stroke.