Maskan lingered behind, his pace not necessarily slower, but his path more extensive. The brothers had agreed that when the North responded to their niggling threats, their imprisonment of their children, he would be the one to travel South, to ensure the youth of their home were kept safe. In the unlikely event that they lost their home, he had to ensure that the path was clear for those who would flee. So he watched as his brother made the first attack against just one of the many intruders, then he moved at pace to track the movement of his daughter and nieces, checking the surroundings constantly as he did so. They ran ahead and he did not stop them, moving as silent as a shadow would in this eternal midnight that reminded him fondly of his birthlands. As they neared the borders of the desert home, he slowed again, ears twisting atop his crown as he paused his stride to peer over his shoulder, towards the home he had just left.

It felt wrong, to be so far from them when he knew that they were endangered. But he was down here, protecting their future - their children, their bloodline. He sighed, as movement above him - a pegasus, an ally, heading to his home - caught his attention. Flicking his gaze back to the sandy realm of the Throat, he pushed forward, spying the three forms of the dragonsisters and his fire-hearted daughter being led away by a dark, shadowy creature. He called to them, a low, rumbling greeting, extending his maw to each youthful female who shared his blood in turn, before considering the pegasus that led them towards the great pillar of flame. "I am Maskan, of the World's Edge. I ensured their safe passage, and I shall remain by their side until the danger has passed." He spoke simply and politely, tilting his crown in a display of respect for an ally. It was silently considered that he suspected, or rather, feared, that the Basin might retaliate by extending harm towards the Throat, and he could at least lend his aid should that happen.

"There were at least three from the Basin, and one from the Foothills posing a challenge when I left." It was his job to know these things, to have witnessed his comrades going into battle while he escorted the young away. He felt like he was betraying them, in more ways then one. First, he had walked away from the battle, and second, he didn't want to be a babysitter. But here he was, torn feelings aside. Safe within the borders of the Throat, his gaze seemed to get lost on the horizon, as his interest in the conversation of passing information faded, and his yearning to race home and rip the head off the nearest intruder argued with his loyal, obedient sense of duty and obligation.