If I could, I would fly far above the earth to the stars itself, never set foot on the frozen sod far below, and remain aloft even in the darkest of storms. My wings are massive, hardly frozen due to being born in the coldest of land where adaption has provided our pegasi with ice-proof, water-resistant wings, and I often cruise high above the world or the Windtossed Foothills, enjoying the stately relaxation of gliding, slipping onto thermals and rising, dropping into downdrafts that send me spiraling down smoothly and swiftly, wings extending for maximum lift, primaries readjusting to conform to flying conditions, adapting the shifting changes in pressure and wind. Yes, I love my ability to fly, yet I fear I am quite often alone, for the Windtossed Foothills are predominantly unicorns and horses, even if they do support all horses. Flight is a way to get rid of excess energy, to forget the worrisome thoughts being a leader brings, lets me live fully in the present, instead of worrying about wars and alliances and the ex-Edge. It's rather silly, seeing as I had been so eager to take on the responsibility of herd, and now wondering if I had really been as fit to the role of leader as I had thought. I share responsibility with two others, two other strong leaders, who sometimes makes me secretly doubt my leadership abilities, even if I successfully have recruited several horses in just a week alone. This sets me thinking, to the little filly I had found, broken and battered down, the one who had called me an angel.

I wheel downwards, primaries shifting, and give a strong beat to keep myself from falling downwards too quickly. I was on my way to the Veins of the Gods, but yet I felt I needed a break. A break to rest my wings and give my legs solid earth to canter on, or rather icy snow compacted down, even though everything is dripping as spring's heat comes. It was, then, no surprise when I decided to land upon a meadow at the peak of a mountain was an excellent idea. With the ease of a practiced aerial flight veteran, I landed, wings back-stroking with massive deep strokes, black feathers cupping the air, hind feet touching down upon the crisp soggy white, before dropping to my fores. I notice with one black eye of another small pegasus, who seems to be investigating something among the cliffs of the mountain edge. Landlocked horses would have to come up the winding paths, but as a pegasus, I was not chained to the ground, unlike those poor beasts. With wingbeats powerful enough to kick up snow flying into the air, I take off again, pausing by the small colt. My wings are beating strongly, leaving me hovering, for I am light enough to hover, if not easily.

My coal black eyes rest on a small white egg, clearly some sort of bird's, for it does not retain the jewel-like color of a dragon's. Immediately, my curiosity is aroused- a zephyr? Jewel-colored feathers lie around it, and there are white remnants of broken shells around it. Perhaps. I give a couple of powerful wingstrokes, drifting a little closer. Carefully, very carefully, I flutter a little closer, nudging it with my muzzle. The earth trembles under the slightest of movements from the egg. Shit! No, don't do anything to make it fall! Considering the dilemma carefully, I fly up, dropping my head and tucking up my legs. Stupid as it may look, I hope it works. My muzzle tenderly brushes the smooth egg, and my wings flap hard to keep me aloft, and I begin to attempt to push it away from the edge, roll safely onto a flatter area. Then I flap up, studying the enigma again. I wouldn't want to attempt more rolling it. Maybe if I were to grasp it between my forelegs... or. Settling down very softly upon the narrow edge, I imagined what I would do- slip the egg between my legs, tuck my legs up and nestle it to my chest, and flap hard. Then, I could perhaps fly to safer ground, somehow settling it on the ground. Yes, that's what I would do! Now, I only had to follow the motions.