Deserts were all about extremities. As different as it appeared to be from the Star Breather's home, this place could most certainly be deigned a desert. Apart from the general lack of sand (or anything really for that matter, apart from snow - so much snow - and ice) and, of course slandering heat (instead its abundance was in searing frigidity), this place really wasn't much different from Dragon's Throat. Both were harsh, both were - technically - deserts, both were barren and both were almost unfathomably vast.

Of course Cassiopeia wouldn't really know, herself. She was stuck behind metal bars, cold sinking down into the very marrow of her bones. That's what separated the two deserts - so alike and yet so very different: cold. It was so unbearably cold, especially for a creature so accustomed and inured to heat.

The dove was trapped like a caged bird, her wing broken and her voice silent. She was like a bird who had lost her song, her legs folded haphazardly beneath her and the crippled flight appendage spread out beside her, the feathers in desperate need of preening. Her mane, tangled and somewhat unkempt, cascaded down in chaotic, yet indelibly elegant waves over pale turquoise eyes that were a tad more gray than usual. It was substantially warmer in the cave (her makeshift prison) than it was in the open, sheltered from the wicked lash of the wind but it was far from cozy, far from warm. She had been like that for hours, liquid occasionally dripping from her nose from the chill of winter. Her bones had become vaguely visible, her wings weak, the tone of her muscle deteriorated from lack of exercise.

She wondered what her daughters were doing. She wondered if her absence had gone completely unnoticed in her homeland. Had they replaced her as Oracle? Perhaps. Honestly, she hoped they did. Rowan had shown significant promise; maybe she would be the one to take her place. Cassiopeia believed she mentored the filly well and admittedly missed seeing her. How was Cirrus faring? Did the woe of her father's passing still stone her heart as relentlessly as before? She felt the all too familiar tug of anguish leaden her chest as Azzuen crossed her mind. Almost instantly sorrow and longing overcome her. She missed him immeasurably. She couldn't hold back the emotion. Tears began to stream down her dark face.

She was alone with her thoughts, and she supposed that was better than the company the Basin had to offer. Mauja wasn't so bad, but he was still one of them. She knew to be wary. These were hateful characters, ones the deity of the Sun had warned her of. Behind that amicable exterior lied something hostile. "Honest darkness," she recalled being told. She believed it now more than ever.