Hector powered his body into a churning gallop and soon his large wings had him airbourne, destination Threshold. It had been some time since the stud had carried out his duties in recruiting and he had much to make up for, the warm air of the heated seasons was welcome on his brown coloured feathers. Even to the pegasus of the Throat he would be an unusual sight, two horns defined him impure to the winged race and less obvious was his genes that connected him to the equine. He was large, 18hh of thick muscle, a long whipping lion tail hung low as he flew. Another connection to the horses that roamed the lands in fantasy stories. His bulk was defined by his the way he carried himself, like a trained warrior his head was always held a little higher, wings powered with practised aplomb. Lastly was his almost flurecent orange hair, his mane stood up on his neck, rubbed and jagged. Nestled in the curl of his lion tail, keeping it safe whilst in flight, was an egg he'd found in the oasis of the Throat, left and unwanted Hector had taken it in. He took it everywhere with him, protective in an almost fatherly way but also out of curiosity. When the time came, what would be born out of it? Hector had never seen an egg before, they didn't exist where he came from, just wild lions and blood thirsty wolves.

Desert turned to grass and in turn the grass turned to dense forest, as he neared the Threshold he took his flight lower. Peering through the branches, looking for travellers or friends.

It so happened he chanced to cross two other pegasus, one with significantly smaller wings that Hector wondered how on earth the poor soul couldn't possibly get airbourne, if at all. With a body of bulk like his own, hairier than he making him wonder if the stud was from one of the colder lands. His own fur not as thick due to the arid desert he came from. The other steed painted in coal and alabaster with hints of crimson, lithe in build with strange leathery wings. Intrigued by the pair, Hector glided expertly through a gap in the trees and allowed gravity to slowly take him to the ground, finally he stood on his equine hooves before the pair. Proffering his head in welcome to both, catching the end of Dúchanar's rather rude reply.

"I don't care for your tone, stranger" his booming voice was filled with disapproval. The scent of the World's Edge was indeed on the pelt of the small winged stud and Hector moved alongside him in a show of support for an ally. Ears flickered to the loud mouthed other and he gave a look to the pegasus (who was quite older than himself) that was full of critisizm but said nothing. Confident in his ability and, in comparison to Hector, the elder chap was but an ant in his path. Which he would squash if necessary.

Not really the way he wanted to start back into recruiting, but it was hardly Hector's fault that he just managed to run into a rather ignorant brute.