The heat!
 
Finally, Tallsun arrives after the coolness of spring. Heat blankets the World’s Edge with a thick and heavy sheet, encapsulated by the mists. But for those who have wings, they can escape the oppressive moisture that clings to every surface. While the edges, cliffs, offer reprieve with ocean kisses.
 
Ru advances upon a small pond that she’s come across in the early morning. Dips her head and wets her lips. She takes long drags of the liquid, uncertain as to where she’ll be headed for the day.
 
Since the beginning of Birdsong until now, her outward appearances have changed. A few more scars litter her body, old wounds that knit and thread together – hardened, and lacking pigment. They used to bother her, scald her pride. Perhaps they still do, but not as nearly as they once had. Now they’re merely there, imbedding their fragments of spars – memories that play between the fuzzy moments of high adrenaline stakes, and the caustic touch of pain.
 
Who knew pain had so many different intensities, versatile flavors and reminders. And still she wonders if she will be one of them. One of the fold, one of the pieces to imbed her roots and grow a home within the walls she bleeds for. Perhaps she’s on her way to gain such a livelihood. Considering the nomadic nature of her people lost to the woman’s memories and trapped within her dreams. At least Helovia is large enough for the mare’s wandering spirit. And feels encouraged roaming the lands, the heavens, to explore more as her spirit begins to settle.
 
When she lifts her head she has determined her plan. And while it isn’t quite extravagant and flourished, it adds a nervous air to her person. Adds bounce to her steps, and energy that coils within those strands and bundles of muscles.
 
I am ready - she announces in silence, before scouring the lands of a man. An older man, but perhaps not quite the elder yet. The one with the navy eyes, and the iron crown that twists before his brow; he is King and he has given the feathered mare a promise.
 
And while it is a simple one, the possibilities provide uneasy knots in Ru’s stomach. She will not permit herself to hope too much, for the fear of crashing too soon and too quickly. But those possibilities hurry her steps nonetheless, and cause her to chew the inside of her cheek as she does. She is strong without words, but words would help her connect. A broken link is a lonely link. And through her pursuit she eventually spies the large stallion in the woods, calls out with a subdued coo. She stands and points her wing in the direction of the East. Allowing her disheveled voice to travel the distance.
 
“Ah?”
 
Her eyes remain guarded, despite her previous excitement on that wintry day. She doesn’t know what to expect. If the Gods would even answer, - but if they did…? The thought is drowned in the practical, and in the present time where they must arrive there first before she can climb that dream. And yet, it has already quickened her heart, and enlivened her eyes – as if the warrior was preparing herself for battle.
 
As soon as they head out, the feeling doesn’t entirely dissipate. Keeping her distance slightly behind the King, her eyes wander the countryside. She focuses on the iron that has now accumulated in her mouth, and works on numbing her silence with the buzz and hum of previous spars.
 
Or the sky, for which she would dissolve her spirit once she had the moment. All this travelling by foot would eventually wear out. And her wings would ache, sooner or later, to join the air in its endless dance.  

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[following Tembovu to the Veins, in the hopes of being healed! derp ;P Waiting on Tembovu to post after.]