A tired sigh lingers out of Onni's chest as she bows, waiting for Midas to assist in the loading of the small boy upon her shoulders. Aside from Lyhty and the occasion bundle of herbs, Onni had never really carried literal weight upon her shoulders. Cera was a small boy, though, and the mare doubted he would weigh her into immobility. Still, the exertion of using her magic was like a vicegrip on her mind, the feeling of sweat building on her barrel and face, the granules which begin to move clinging to her body and painting her orange in places. It would be alright, for the Oasis would offer her a bath as well as a much needed drink of water.

Her eyes close as the billow of sand grows, amazed by the magic that Midas had held in his body unbeknownst to her. A strange sensation of a warm, grainy flow of liquid swarms over her back, depositing the precious parcel of Cera between her wings. Bending her chocolate appendages like stopgates, making a small saddle for the boy's body upon her, the healer lifts herself upward, legs straightening carefully to avoid unintentionally launching Cera into the air and back upon the ground, leaving Midas's efforts all for naught. As she stands, she hears the creaking of her bones and the small voice croaked from the tired lips of the child.

"Do not worry, Cera," she says soothingly, cooing back as kind light blue eyes look for the tiny face past her shoulder. "Midas will come with us. He too has earned a drink for his bravery and strength today." Giving the boy a warm smile, the shaman begins to make a steady walk, upbeat in pace, but slow enough for the exhausted tobiano to keep in line with her travels. The painted girl was in no condition to strain her body further with running as it was, and the Oasis was not going to disappear in the time it would take to journey from the outskirts of the desert land to the lake. "Be careful not to lose balance," she warns to the small boy gently, certain that she could likely stop him from slipping with her wings before it became an issue, but not wishing to test the theory.

Allowing for a small stretch of companionable silence as the trio makes their way across the red ocean of the desert, Onni glaces up toward the sky, silently thanking the Sun soaring above for his kindness and generosity which had saved the small boy nestled upon her back. It was then that the pale, dirtied face of the shaman turns to view one of solid black, traces of gold falling along his eyes, as if the veins of color from his irises stretched out onto the canvas of night. "Your haste saved his life," she says plainly, with no flattery in the sweet tones of her words. "He is lucky to have such a father." The mare smiles with admiration, thinking of her own father's failure to support her. The small flickering memories of his figure that she carried told her that he had been colored much like Midas, but their personalities were obviously quite different. You could never truly judge another by their outer appearances, and this was one of those occasions the shaman believed the old lesson more than ever.

She had no way of knowing that Cera was not related to Midas by blood, but that would not have altered her view of them as a family. Voltaic had truly been a father to her, yet they were no more related than she and Midas. The ties of family could be made by anything, blood being only one option out of many.
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