[Wanting him to join the foothills, although it might be more worthwhile if either Kimber or Smoke are the ones to pick him up ^^]

Hooves leave crescents in the dust in which small paws fill and disturb with soft indentions. Such is the way this pair moves, with little energy and less effort. At times a hoof is barely lifted and it drags through the dirt, producing a bizarre skid which the paws generously mottle.

They halt.
He sighs.

The aromas of passerbys and the mismatched, over-laid hooves left in the dust is enough to tell them they've returned.

In a moment of understanding both glance at one another. Their eyes are heavy and tinged with shadows of their past, but there is a resolve shining brightly within as well. They may have found nothing they hoped for in their visit back east, but it had shaken the sickness from the dunskin and it had set the good-natured collie bristling. A new fervor pumped through them, a fire not too easily extinguished. They were back, and this time, they were staying.

"Go," a rough voice commanded. Golden eyes searched teal for a moment and then the dog was off in a flash of wavering tail and humming paws.

The stallion grinned a half-lipped, wicked sort of grin and leaned against a nearby tree, watching the path ahead, and waiting.

Paws keep a steady rhythm as they sweep across the dying, brown vegetation that fills the forest. A long tongue lolls off the side of a patch-work face, the heat here promising the collie won't get much respite, but he presses on. With nose sweeping the ground he is intent on finding the trail of the little Ricochet, or perhaps even that of the fighting mare with the fire bird.

Speaking of birds, a dove takes to its wings as he breezes past its bush. It causes his head to jerk to the side, golden eyes attracted to the movement. His stomach churns, a reminder that his meals have been thin as of late with all of this traveling. A bit of hunting along the way wouldn't add much time - he knew Ricochet would have sunlight to spend regardless. Plus, he'd track better on a full stomach, or so he'd use as an excuse.

Veering off a faint path Guns stole into the better depths of the forest, pace slowing and belly slinking. In little time he was upon a flock of doves pecking absently at the dirt. Easy, stupid targets, Guns thought eagerly. Further and further the collie swept up the distance until he was so close he could taste them! As he lunged, oblivious to the thunder of hooves that scared the doves before his teeth snatched them, deaf to the shouting voices that foretold the ones he wanted, the birds scattered with a cry of alarm and slapping feathers. Smoke met the gaping jaws instead, tasting gritty and foul and heavy. Guns landed poorly, his aim thrown by all the explosion of ruckus and madness that quickly ensued around him.

The ground shook - that he felt. His name was screamed - that he heard. Too late though, his focus too set on a lost meal.

Hooves consumed the space around him, one pair narrowly striking him while others swept around. Adrenaline spiked in the dog that had already been running on that natural high. Surprise overwhelmed sense and a high-pitched yelp agonized an injury that did not exist. Tail tucked and hackles raised the collie sprinted away from the chaos, eyes watering and lungs choking on the smoky veil that sent his sense haywire. As he ran, he recalled someone had called his name. Instinct yielded to better sense of his heart and the black and white dog blurred around a tree and lunged back towards the fray, barks echoing the excitement pumping through his paws.

In the distance, a dunskin bellowed in response to the yelling that came muffled, and the scream of a dog that came all too clear. Cold dread filled the stallion as he shoved off his tree, surging into the woods with a haste his bloodlines could boast of.

Guns and Ricochet came upon the scene together. "GUNS!" Ricochet called harshly, his tones rough with his fear and his confusion. A creme body bounced to a slow trot as a bark came in response and teal eyes settled on an all too familiar cloud of smoke. A harsh snort curled from the dunskin with an explosive finale, the gunpowder gathered in his nostrils feeding the emotional state of the young stud with deadly magic. "Smoke!" he hollered, knowing she was near, haunches tucking as he whirled, fore hooves bouncing up and grazing over top the collie. Guns didn't flinch this time however, trust and partnership placed in the Incendiary. Too long had they been each other's shadows that one could so easily harm the other, these strangers however, still had the dog's fur up on end and set his teeth to bare.

"WHAT'S GOING ON!?" Ricochet demanded, furious at his lack of insight as he glanced the form of Kimber and a strange, striped mare all mixed up together.

The settling haze of the chaos and the dark fog, all bodies were scattered and minds equally so. Smoke gracefully took charge of the situation however, her calm demeanor and significant experience giving her a natural leadership even if her title didn't. Ricochet found her easily, though his teal eyes still burned, and were not easily put out with her less than revealing explanation. It was clear however that Smoke knew little with her vague response, however Ricochet wouldn't leave it so easily. Whatever had happened he intended to hunt down the stranger - for now he had other matters to attend to however.

Biting back his rising anger as best he could, Ricochet forced a wan smile. It helped with Kimber being here, Ricochet still not entirely sure how he felt towards the grulla mare and her deadly lizard. "Kimber, Smoke," Ricochet greeted with a low mumur, his muzzle brushing over the filly as her attention settled on his dog. "I am glad to see you both again, and that is you who were here to aid me." He smiled truthfully now. As always family supported him, which only made his heart ache for the absence of his sister.

Beside him Guns looked up worriedly at Kimber. Still shaken by the ordeal the collie whined low in his throat, leaning happily against the support of one of Kimber's forelegs. He licked her nose as she brought it down to him, the tip of his tail thumping in a pathetic way. It was then the vapor ferrets scattered down the filly's limb, startling the dog so that he barked in warning and jumped to his paws, hackles bristling with uncertainty. Ricochet hissed a command to the dog, but otherwise ignoring him in favor of Smoke's question.

Could he detect a hint of smug, I-told-you-so in her voice? Ricochet frowned. Beside him Guns settled, inching closer to peer at the strange creatures and their dancing eyes. "I would have stayed longer if there had been much point," Ricochet spoke with an obvious pain to his voice. His eyes drifted from the scarred mare, heavy with discontent. "I could not identify anyone, there were still too many shades to risk a close venture."

What he was saying is that he had no idea if Aerwen was rotting in his dead home, or if she was wandering the wilds somewhere still. Not knowing had him suffering more than the sight of her corpse. A splinter of despair in his heart suggested that was the form she currently held anyway.

"Her son?" Ricochet managed to ask, garbled and un-explanatory. He wanted to meet him, to know of him. With so much loss recently Ricochet had a strong urge to keep his bloodlines close to him.

"At any rate, I think I'll be staying a while. It seems this is as good a place as any..."

Smoke's tale of recently arrived Isilmians give Ricochet's heart a bit of a rise from the deep and dark place its sunken to. Although it's more realistic to think these survivors were hiding out somewhere beyond Isilme and just now getting to Helovia, as he had also been rather late in that regard, but he preferred to take her statement for the face value.

The dog's ears prick as Kimber speaks, but he cannot understand her voice. Her gentle tones help soothe him however, and the ease in which she handles the creatures suggests his own relaxation. As the duo hopped towards him again he held still this time, wet nose quivering as he extended it to them. He tried to breathe in their scent, but was doused with water. He spluttered and coughed, his nose burning as water shot down it. He pawed at his muzze in vain, sneezing on occasion. Guns decided he rather didn't like those ferrets after all. Excusing himself, he slunk to the other side of Ricochet, still sneezing at times.

Warm fur brushed the left heel of the dunskin as Guns sat beside him. He shifted his weight away from the dog as a reminder not to step on him, but Ricochet's attention remained fixated on Smoke. Leaving behind the troubles of Isilme, Smoke all to eagerly handed him new ones. "The Foothills..." he echoes after her, thoughtful of the new name of a promising new home. The dream is quickly shattered as Smoke continues, a grimace making its way onto the stallion's dark lips. It only continued to get worse... "A UNICORN!?" He shouted, anger flaring up white hot once again. Behind him a spurt of dust kicked up from Guns gave a small crackle. "She's forgotten the face of our father!" Ricochet raged, a forehoof slapping the ground as though it were Aerwen's face beneath it. He could not believe her, how could she piss him off when she wasn't even around, possibly dead!

He groaned at this thought, his temper simmering as sorrow doused it. A unicorn sire... but at least the colt was equine. The opposite of Evangeline's ordeal. Ricochet's teeth clicked in agitation, now enraged at himself for bringing up that damn mare again. I wish she was the missing one, the dead one.

He sighed, bitter and quietly furious. "I make no promises," he grunted in response to Smoke's requests. "Yet I've dealt with worse," Ricochet's voice grew softer. He'd decided not to kill Evangeline's foal, with its ugly, bastardly horn. He would hold to his word, though he regretted it now. Jackal at least would look fine, and Ricochet couldn't help but wonder if his blood would be alien. He'd need to find the boy and begin raising him right, Nieque knows what the child had been doing, given no guidence with his missing and corrupted mother.

Ricochet snorted. "Let's go home then," he responded grumpily. He didn't much enjoy the prospect of home being a place where 'he might run into the occasional unicorn' but if Jackal and Kimber were there then it was where he belonged. Over time, perhaps he could change the setting into one he more preferred, but a gut feeling told him it would be a lot to accomplish. This wasn't Isilme after all.

Ricochet was still Ricochet though, if perhaps, improved with experience and age, or so he liked to think. Volatile still, he had at least a shred of patience to spare. He did not however, have a good liar's face. His best bet would be to avoid all of the ugly races, he could not promise a lack of conflict otherwise.

"Well Guns, looks like we're in for another rough ride. Put on your happy face boy, that's the best way to eat shit." He murmured under his breath to the dog. The collie lurched to his feet, tail wagging happily and a conceding bark offered in response to the words he did not comprehend.