The sun had settled in the far west some time ago, draping the lands in peaceful darkness. Most had lain their heads to rest for the night or were preparing to do so, but for some, the arrival of night marked the beginning of a night shift.
As Winglead, I'd taken it upon myself to scour the borders whenever the sun would fall to allow the others to rest peacefully. Though the Basin hadn't bothered the Edge since their failed invasion, the affair between us and them was still somewhat of an unclear situation to me, and I found it near impossible to neglect my watch at all until somebody else stepped in the following morning. It was my duty after all, one I upheld with utmost pride and joy, even if it kept me from socializing with the others as I oftentimes wished to do.
A faint voice sounds, but it is Suli who catches on to it before I. Perched on the crest of my neck she stiffens, violet, predatory eyes peering through the trees and shadows towards the source. Coming to a halt, I too follow her gaze until a soft, but distinct voice could be heard in the distance. It was somewhat surprising that anybody would be calling for both myself and Mirage, but I moved forward at once, closing the distance between myself and the voice with a pacey walk.
"Quilyan?" I speak out when the moon's rays spill out across the painted stud's body, recognizing him instantly. Just a short time ago I had traveled with he, Kahlua and Aaron to the Basin, but I had seen him on numerous occasions before then at meetings and in passing. He'd always come off to me as level-headed and an overall good man, and though I didn't know him well enough to say if it were true or not, looking at him now, I could tell that something was wrong.
Closing the gap between us until I stood near his side, I reached out to bump muzzles briefly if he allowed it, in an effort to comfort and reassure him. His eyes were wide and his sides strained to keep from heaving, and the air about him simply felt panicked. From her place on my neck, Suli offered her own soft, warbled chirrup before I spoke again, tone patient but drenched in worry. "What is the matter?"
"Speak."
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HP: 66.5
