They were still alive.
Somehow, through some miracle, they found themselves stumbling through the mist-veiled forest that was their home. Bleeding, dirty, tired beyond belief with a feeling that something had been stolen from them - a sense of pride and quite possibly the passing of some future years. It was the price he payed for standing up to the Reaper - and in a way, the fact that they were still breathing reassured them.
Every tired step they took was agony. Blood painted the coat of the shoulders, drying and cracking on their path from jagged tears in skin and flesh, beading on the edge of bruises like crimson gems - but it was the cold on the inside that worried the stallion most, and the limp, weak form of the dragon he carried on his back. Every now and then he had to stop and freeze, listening and forcing all his senses to perceive her; worrying, waiting until he confirmed that she was still breathing. They would not realize the clearing of the bond for some time yet. Fajira was unconscious, Lace's thoughts filled with agony and worry; they were already merged once more, but in the weakened state they were in the pair they had no strength left to wonder, rejoice or celebrate.
Not even when the voice of a dragon called out over the land could they muster more than a faint sense of relief. Slow and unsteady on the legs the battle weary stallion altered the direction and began heading towards the sound of his Queen, longing to make sure she was alright, to see her again. Confusion over her return despite the fact that the delegation to bring her home had yet to leave could wait until later; everything could wait till later.
It was but a shadow of the normally so strong and well-kept Glazier that stepped out from the protective embrace of the woods. Tired, stained with blood and with eyes dull from the brush against death, carrying a fainted dragon over the back, the smile that stretched the lips upon beholding the golden dragons seemed painful. Without speaking, without thinking he walked across the grass-clad rocks and reached out his nose to touch the scaled neck of his Queen and friend - as if to make sure that she actually was there.
"Mirage. You're home, aren't you...Thank the gods. Thank goodness you're alri..." The words died on his lips as he spotted an ugly stain upon her shoulder, charred and dull and with a scent of blood. Her blood. Lace's expression immediately darkened, and in complete disregard for his own weakened state he began to look the dragon over to see if there were more injuries covering her body.
"Who hurt you?" he growled once assured that this was the only wound to mar her beauty. "I swear, if this is the world of those Basin rats, I'll..." The words were made incomprehensible as the grulla muttered them behind gritted teeth, but the ill natured language and foul curses would surely have shocked those around had they heard them. It wasn't exactly a mood common to him, slow to show both anger and sadness as he was.
"Do you know anything about Solstice?" he asked Mirage once he had begun to calm down, stepping back with some difficulty to give her space and allow others to come forth should they need to greet her welcome home in the same way as him. "We went to the land of the racist scum some time ago to bring her and others back, but with little success. All our attempts to steal her back to us have failed, their watch on her is too tight for us to penetrate. I'm sorry Mirage, we tried; but in the end our numbers aren't great enough to stand up to Aurora Basin on our own."
Wearied the silver steed paused and sighed, feeling the weight of his failures more heavily today than ever before. In the silence he turned the head to look at Torasin, spearing a weak smile at the golden tobiano; it had been some time since they met and spoke. They had all been busy on their own ends; perhaps now it could be remedied, the bond strengthened. That went for the rest of the herd as well.
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