A collection of paws and hooves dance across the red base of our home, happiness etched into every step, jubilance scribed in every jump, bound, buck, kick and barking bite. I chase the dust she kicks up, my long tongue lolling from my jaws, yipping at her retreating frame, barking with victory as she returns to me. Great flaps of her beautiful wings takes her away from me, but I linger in the shadow she casts upon the ground, always pleased to see her return. She is a stunning creature, her coat as patchy as the clouds that drift across the skies, with blues and undulating waves of ivory streaking her weather-patterned hide. We stand still for a moment, and I lean myself against her strong forelegs, rubbing my nose against her, happy for the intimacy of our togetherness to be reinstated again.

The heat of our desert home reminds me of my birth place, only there, the heat was worse, a thousands times worse. Hell was a realm of constant burning, constant hunger, plagues, death, agony, torture - I did not miss it. The dry heat of this realm is like a holiday for me, a vacation I plan never to return from. My eyes roll upwards, beholding my cherished bonded with adoration. I am young still, my form is lanky, where hers is slowly filling out, I have only just begun my growth in a vertical direction. It matters not; our hearts beat in synchrony, and I am sure that in time, our minds will come together too.

"What do you think, Sitka?" My tail sweeps the sand as it wags at her, my only way of responding, and though I can proffer no clear answer, no clue or hint as to what I may be thinking directly to her, I manage to pull a smile from her lips, and that is enough for me to happily continue the to-and-fro motion of my tail across the desert. "He wants me to stay away from war. How can he even say that, when he is the General?" Her smile is short-lived, I am unhappy to see the sadness warp my bonded's façade into a melancholy disposition, as I recall the interaction she recently had with her, no, our father. He had requested her to take up a trade, a craft, in creating things that did not include the destruction of war. Or else the arts of healing, he had implored her most desperately, to seek something aside from the dangers of physical combat.

So she had conceded, at least, to his face. But within her heart, beating beneath that plump, blue-and cloud-white breast, was the soul of a warrior, a protector, my saviour. I did not begrudge her passions, instead, I helped her train, I gave her something to chase, to dodge, to run with and run from, at least while she kept to the ground. Still, she had dutifully made contact with Onni with regards to becoming a healer, to learning the arts of restoring health as opposed to taking it. My little stormcloud would make an interesting healer, I think; she was just as likely to beat someone up as she was to healing them. It amused me, though I wish she could feel this amusement too, then perhaps I would see a smile grace her lips once more. We look to the horizon, the midday sun still high in the sky, our thoughts distracted, on matters of heart and righteousness.. And mine drifting towards my next meal.

[ For Cera <3 ]

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