Sleep had been a nonexistent thing for him that night. Apollo's mind was a whirlwind of emotions, questions, possibilities, and worries. He worried for his herd, and how long it would be until they risked the danger of losing their home. He pondered the quest he had been given by the God of the Earth, and the intimate relationship he was required to learn of before his return to the Veins. Things like this is what kept Apollo awake, well into the night hours when everyone should be resting...

So, as always whenever his mind would not shut itself up, Apollo took to wandering.

He had been making his rounds, ensuring that his family was safe for at least another day, when those pleading, familiar vocals rang throughout the night sky. The painted stallion, bleached out due to the high intensity of the mighty summer sun, paused in mid-stride, one fore-hoof still raised in the air as he tried to discover just where the voice had come from. A sharp snort blew from his nose, and moments later, Apollo's hoof finally lowered back to the downy earth.

"... Midas?" Was that him? One of the most precious friends that he had made during his time in Helovia? The male who Apollo called 'brother'? Either way, even if it wasn't, Apollo couldn't ignore the call. It sounded urgent... Desperate, almost.

Head raising and neck twisting, the Merciful Chief waited for a few more moments before venturing towards where he believed he had heard his golden-winged brother's call. Ears pricked forward, honey-brown eyes searching through the twilight lit hills, it didn't take long for him to find Midas waiting patiently by the borders that marked the Foothills from the wildlands. Or, at least, he hoped it was 'patiently', for Midas had a truly concerned expression marring his handsome face.

"Midas!" Apollo called rather jovially, his eyes sparking with genuine excitement at seeing that it was, indeed, his dear friend. "Midas, how good it is to see you! There's no need to wait at the borders, brother; you're more than welcome in these lands." There was more that Apollo wanted to say, questions that he wanted to ask his friend due to their time spent apart, but he found the words dying in his throat the closer that he drew to the Pegasus. Brows furrowing in worry, the stallion continued to speak. His voice, this time, was lowered and full of anxiety.

"... What's troubling you, Midas? Has something happened?"

Coming to a stop before his friend, the Foothills Chief outstretched his muzzle and tenderly, dare he say affectionately brushed his velvety nose against Midas' own. The painted male had always been there for him, in both the most tiresome of mental and physical trials. Perhaps Apollo himself could finally return the favor. He wondered, albeit briefly, what was currently crossing Midas' mind. Such a troubling expression didn't suit him.

"And I am glad to see that it is you, as well," Apollo responded earnestly, "Our herd is... Exposed. It's hard to assume if wanderers are here to help us, or harm us." He would never have spoken such words to a stranger, words that revealed just how very vulnerable his family was. There had been little to no word from Tonka, and so Apollo began to wonder if the Assassin's could still be called allies... And yet, he knew that they were not completely helpless. Still.

Sobering considerably and growing rather straight-faced, Apollo silenced his lips as Midas inquired of the whereabouts to Ktulu, and their daughter, Ranjiri. That caused the Merciful to tilt his head, an ear cocked askew in confusion. "... You have not seen her?" He questioned, honey-brown orbs staring intently into Midas' own golden eyes. It was strange to him that Ktulu would not have sought out Midas once she had left, even to simply inform him of her decision to return to outcast life. "Our dark lady has ventured on, to follow her heart. I feel as though leading this herd was cumbersome on her, and so she left us, shortly after appointing me to Chief. Your daughter, however, sweet Ranjiri, she remains, but I'll be honest... I don't see her as often as I used to. I think she's begun to spread her wings and explore the lands around us."

Apollo himself was no father. He couldn't imagine the worry that Midas must feel for young Ranjiri, especially with the distance between homes and obligations... But he could understand the worry for one's own family, for that was a worry that he felt every moment.

"Walk with me, brother, as we talk." Turning, Apollo jerked his head to the side to indicate for Midas to follow, if he wished. "There is no need to stand on the borders as though you're a stranger."

Apollo listened as his friend went on, seemingly unsatisfied with his answer. An ear tipped back in uneasiness, and the overo felt his concern merely grow. What, indeed, did it feel like, being a father searching relentlessly for your mate and child? Desperate to find them safe, to find them well and whole? Having a family of that calibur, Apollo imagined, was grating on the nerves... But he could think of none better suited to handle those stresses than Midas.

"Ktulu did not leave her alone," Apollo amended gently, his soulful, honey-brown orbs lingering upon Midas as they began to roam the grasses of the Foothills side by side, "But in the protection of our family as a herd. Unfortunately I don't know if young Ranjiri intends to stay within this family, for as I said, it has been some time since I last saw her..." Realizing he was probably making Midas' worries worse, Apollo shut himself up, his lips pulled thin. What could he say to help quell his dear friend's fears? Was there anything, or was he simply making it worse?

"If I see them, Midas, I will tell them that you worry of them frequently, and that they would both do well to see you soon. I'm sorry that I cannot offer you more peace of mind than my word."

"Don't let the politics overwhelm; don't lose yourself."

The statement came rather abruptly that it caught Apollo unaware, and he tippted his muzzle inwards and towards his friend, eyes searching and slightly confused. Leadership was a huge weight. Not only did you have to protect your own life, but the lives of everyone who lived with you. A family unit they were, weak in numbers, but strong in the bonds of kindship.

"Midas... If I could be so bold to ask you something?" A flick of the tail to signal a sudden, different level of concern, but Apollo did not let the silence settle for long. "This is... Something beyond the ties of brothers, but from a desperate Chief to a worthy Sultan. My herd - my family- is... Unsafe. Threatened. You and I have shared some things in the past, Midas; we've explored unnamed locations, shared our troubles like brothers, fought and shed blood in each other's names and safety... I would ask, as Chief of the Foothills, if you and the Dragon's Throat would humble us as allies?"

It was in the middle of his grave question that Apollo found himself slowing his pace until he had stopped, his attention focused soley and completely upon his winged companion. Would Midas agree to such a truce...? Would it even matter? Or had their contract with the Basin ruined any such ties for allies in this tumultuous time?

Perhaps he should have known that the question would arise sooner or later. It was the only reason for tension between he and his golden brother, was it not? The question, soothed with a proclamation of Midas' brotherly affection, still stung to hear, but there was nothing but truth to the inquiry. They had attacked the World's Edge, an event that Apollo had been helpless to stop at the time... Hopefully Midas would listen to his reasoning as to what had caused such alliances with the Basin, if one would even call it that.

"Midas," Apollo started softly, sucking in a deep breath as he pondered just what he could say to explain himself, "I regret that day, as I do regret every day of war I have ever put myself in. Please listen, and know that everything I'm about to tell you is the truth, and transpired before I had any power to stop it."

Honey-brown eyes lingered upon the Sultan's golden eyes, apology shining deep within his orbs. "When I was still but a medic for the Grey, shortly after settling within the Foothills, Ophelia and Psyche of the Basin came to an agreement. They created a contract between the Grey and the Basin; the promise of soldiers should the Basin ever need them." His loyalty to the Grey had been unfaltering back then, for he had loved every member of the Grey as his family... Would that now be his undoing? "Before the invasion on the Edge, Ophelia left us, leaving Ktulu and I to pick up where she had left off. It was then that the Basin called us to to service..."

"I... I heard that the Basin attacked your family as well, Midas." Here, emotion choked his voice, causing Apollo's speech to falter. He could still remember the terror he felt when hearing such news, and the fear that, once he found out that the Foothills had helped the Basin invaders, Midas would hate him. "I... I am sorry. I had no idea that they had been planning that, and... If I could go back to that day and change what had happened, I would. It hurt, brother, to see my warriors, my family come home, haunted from attacking and harming innocents who had not deserved such brutality. I swore then that I would change our ways."

And it had been then, at his decision, that the Grey had fallen into disrepair. Did it hurt? Yes, of course. He had devouted himself, body and soul, for the welfare of their mercenary band... But that had been the idealistic dream of outcast life. As a herd, such a creed was impossible to follow without making yourself a target.

"... I know that it does not condone what we have done," the Merciful went on to explain, lowering his eyes from Midas' piercing gaze, "But we have done our best to amend for our sins. We were left in a tough place; seized by a contract that we did not ask for. For now... I want to move forward from that dark time, and create a new Foothills."