As the firm grasp of winter claimed dominion over the lands, it grew steadily colder for each week, no each day, that passed. In the northern reaches of the realm the sun set earlier and earlier each day, until the sun had but a few hours each day to chase off the shadows and disperse the mist. It was cold, it was dark, clouds blocked out the sky most days, bringing either snow or frigid perspiration that froze when landing upon a surface. The close proximity to the ocean made the climate moist, but not even the vast stretches of water could stave off the chilly gloom - it rather enhanced it, with the bone-cold, damp mist that always coiled around the legs.

The campfires instated by the DragonHeart was a true blessing in times like these. Not only were they a source of light and warmth, they also provided an excellent excuse to gather, huddle close to one another and savor the company of others. A family gathering of sorts, since Mirage kept insisting that the Qian was more of a clan than an organization.
Well, be that as it may, Lace still didn't know most of the horses that lingered within the borders of the Edge. Since the Invasion he had spent more time wandering about than socializing with this new family, and it felt strange to know that he was a part of a herd where he didn't even know the names of the others.

It was time for some bonding, and he had a plan as to how he'd make it happen. Rather than making a call across the lands to gather people, he had been hard at work most of the day, dragging and rolling large logs from the forest in order to increase the size of one of the campfires, the one closest to the cliffs and the Shrine. Fajira helped by flitting on and off, searching for good material and providing her fiery breath in order to clear off ice and snow and dry the wood.

Now, as the sun was setting behind a perpetual blanket of clouds and shadows growing darker, they were as good as done. The gray dun grunted with strain as he shoved the last of the logs in place with a shoulder, nodding pleased to himself when he took a step back, admiring the large pile they had created.

Done? the little White asked as she circled the air above the pyre. Yeah, done he nodded, smiling at the sensation of nervousness and excitement that leaked from his bonded. Go ahead, light it up. He took a cautious step back, golden eyes watching as the dragon rose higher into the air, flapped the delicate wings to keep her in place and drew a deep breath. Maws opened, releasing a torrent of searing hot flames that began to lick the damp wood, warming it up and chasing away the soaked in water. Smoke began to rise as lichen and moss sizzled and popped, white and reluctant at first, but soon joined by crimson sparks as the hot flames caught a hold. Another jet stream of liquid death ignited the lower layers of the pile, ensuring that the fire was going to burn hot and bright for a long time to come.

Grinning, the stallion stepped back even further as the warmth radiating from the pyre began to grow uncomfortable, found a good spot next to a tall, barren tree and leaned against the trunk, prepared to wait. Fajira soon joined him and settled on his whithers, singing a quiet trilling melody as light danced over them. It was a good night for a gathering, and he looked forward to see who would be lured in by the light and promise of warmth and company. Hopefully someone would have a few decent stories to share, or Mirage might have something to say to them all.