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The desert looms before the buckskin stallion and his tall companion, the air above the golden sand shimmering with heat. To some, the land may appear intimidating, but to Lynx it is home. He wonders how Pluto views the Throat, and glances back at the blue dusted girl. She is not the first wanderer he has led to the arid herdland, and likely not the last, but already he is somewhat fond of the pegasus. He is certain that the herd will accept her with open arms as well, for so far he had yet to see anyone be turned away.
Warmth wraps around him as hoof meets sand, soothing the tense flesh surrounding the black spear puncturing his face, easing the ever-present ache into something more bearable, replacing pain with simple discomfort. Frostfall had not been kind to the scarred stallion, and his thin frame was just beginning to fill out again, though his horn forced him to remain somewhat gaunt. Still, he has recovered well due to the heat of the sun in this place.
He halts a few feet in, giving Pluto a chance to look around, take in her new surroundings without worrying about being left behind by her guide. He doubts that many get such a chance, ushered to the oasis without the opportunity to get their bearings in the vast desert. Lynx, however, prefers to let those he brings home to look around, get a feel for the land, before he takes them further in. It seems only polite, and they will reach the oasis eventually, whether they rush or not. It will simply take a bit longer.
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