The herd meeting had slowly arrived to a standstill, and Ophelia had left Tonka under the watchful, careful eyes of the rest of the Grey. She trusted their abilities to keep the foul impostor captive more than her own, as she was not tried in battle. Well, in war, yes, but not in one on one fighting. Still, what she had gained from Demetrie's memories was disconcerting and of vital importance, and the alabaster mare would keep her promise and visit each of the herds, warning them. First on her list was the Throat, for perhaps one of them would join her to tell the Edge of the assassin's target. Ophelia could not help but laugh at the thought of a barely two year old filly, massive guffaw of a stallion and Ignita trying to take over Mirage and her fighters, but the Edge deserved to be warned nontheless.
The alabaster mare kept to the shadows, cloven hooves carrying her beneath the emerald umbrella. Morning's light just began to creep over the horizon, barely visible between thick trunks, and the heat of the day was starting to settle in. Cicadas chirped in the trees and birds sang to each other; such was Tallsun. Ophelia wished that the Sun would disappear in the dark again, as she wanted no reminder of that God and his cruelty. To think that her devotion and love for him was once so strong... Phi shook her head, trying to rid her mind of those thoughts.
As much as her memories would not allow for forgetting, she had to try and reconcile the past and keep in there. South, moving south toward the sun's land did not help very much, and she tilted her ears back as she felt the map in her mind urge her icon ever closer to her target. But for now, a rest. Ophelia felt thick in her stomach, and she inhaled deeply, trying to catch her breath. She did not entirely understand this new development in her health, but she knew that she was a fit mare. Perhaps this weather was too humid for her lungs to function properly. Nothing else could possibly be a logical reason for her fatigue.
The heat rose, and she lightly brushed her tail around her fetlocks to keep the air moving. Why had she not chosen the Basin as her initial location of warning? Most likely because Psyche had a rather conniving attitude that would take effort to navigate, but she would eagerly take word games over this weather. A pool called to her lips, and she moved close, leaning down to take a sip of crisp water, hydrating her lightly perspiring form. A heavy sigh. "Onward, Phi, ever onward," she murmured to herself.
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A Brief Pause, Marching to the Throat [Murder/Open]
