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Sumati felt it best that she took to the skies on clear days like this. The rippled dunes proved too much effort of the muscles in Tallsun heat. She hopes everyone is getting their share of the oasis today.
As she flies, sunburn nestles in her white patches, the skin tight and red burns ache around the pale wing joints as she heaves herself into the sky. The Sultana's vibrant eyes seer out into the blaze of mirage on the horizons, the arid Chinook breathes into them and they feel as if set ablaze. Hazel flames. She snorts with displeasure, tail flicking in annoyance - it cracks like a tree limb switch against her thigh. Anger runs in high temperatures, especially today. She thinks of how deadly beauty can be, knowing the conditions of the Throat were severe. If only there were less sand, sun, and snakes.
Sumati soon picks up speed in the skies, finding solace in the tendrils of crooning Chinook. The gale sings into her mane, and finally the mare relaxes, if even for a little bit it is enough. She doesn't feel as constricted in the clam skies when heading out towards her borders. She stretches the brown tips of her wings while settling in with a sigh. The Sinbird is not all relaxed though vaguely remembering the grave warning Kri sent at the herd meeting. Her voice still answers like an annoying beep in the back of her brain. She will do something about this Tio after the day ends and morning emerges.
Her eyes, as they scan the daunting horizon, catch a glimpse of Aryel reentering the sandy borders. The Sinbird descends, eventually taking notice of the unicorn colt. Her pale hooves sink into the ripples of desert, a wave of heat flashing over as muscles coil into grace. The huge mare folds her wings and slips into a smooth canter, before rolling into a square halt. Aryel's black eyes receive attention first, locking with the Sinbird's hazel blaze in casual greeting, hazel eyes are soft with respect for the Sergeant. Sumati's unmarked face, chiseled with approval, glances to the young boy's secondly. She takes in his features, first noticing wounds cut deep all over the poor child's body, old blood leaks from the gashes, and the boy doesn't look fazed. Only then do her eyes capture the dark horn glinting in the sun. A smile grows on her face then, as she realizes the potential this colt has as a warrior. Foot soldier would do him well, especially if he began his training now.
"Hello, son," she greets with a smooth, tender voice. "Welcome to the Dragon's Throat. I am Sumati the Sinbird, Chancellor here. We would be more than happy to have you, dear." She dips her head politely, hoping to flatter the young prospect. "We'll get you a healer for those wounds and then you can settle in. You look exhausted." The mare approaches his muzzle, meeting halfway with her own, genuinely feeling pity for the young colt. However, behind this pity is an emotion of triumph for herself and the Throat. More capable, young minds would serve well here and she knew that war was approaching fast.
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