It stirred in his blood, the faintest feeling of a summoning, gathering in his arteries and pulsing through his veins, strengthening as each moment trickled by. The world was breathless, the hours timeless, and the dunskin moved as if in a trance, listening for the source of the silent call. His breath whistled too loud in the gathering quiet, his muscles were too tense for the softness of the evening light, and his heart beat too quick for the peace of an autumn night. Ricochet shrugged away the tightness in his shoulders, forced himself to breathe easy, as the unquiet grew, murmuring soundlessly in his darkly lined ears. It thrummed through him, a second heartbeat, and at last he relented.

The grasses rustled beneath his hooves as he moved, nostrils quivering as he tested the air. There was no malice in the wordless voice; there was light and dreams and wishes, coalescing into his bloodstream, lightening the shadows of his volatile soul, easing the aches in his thudding heart.

Forwards he went, eyes gleaming dully, as the evening light spilled out over his buttermilk coat, turning him milky gold, his mane and tail jet as shadows, writhing in the faintest of breezes. Thick forest gave way to rolling meadow, grasses still lush despite the onslaught of frigid fall, green and gold and brown, faded in the sunset. Through the haze created by the setting sun, he looked ahead, teal eyes narrowing against the brightness; the tightness in his chest eased, and an inexorable joy came over him, giving his lips a cheerful quirk before he straightens them firmly, shaking away such emotions. It could be dangerous, this thing. Helovia was full of magic both nefarious and angelic- it didn't matter that this call felt good. Anyone- anything- could disguise its true intentions.

There is a second sun on the horizon. Ricochet's brows knit, suspicion in his eyes, but Guns does not bark or do anything else, instead staying quiet. The Incendiary glances towards the collie, a shrug rippling down his shoulders. Hopefully it was nothing bad... who knows, maybe it was even a god.

As they approach, the dunskin's jaw parts ever so slightly, before shutting firmly. It is a bird, glowing white as the sun, so bright that it gives his eyes an ache to look at. Around it, animals gather, equines and pegasi and unicorns. A squirrel leaps out from beneath his hooves, scurrying away with a bob of its tail, and Guns hardly turns away from staring at the mighty tree. Guns? Not taking an easy meal? Now, that was strange.

Ricochet halts a safe distance away from the others, hooves scuffing the earth, and he rumbles his discontent and unease.