No Time for Lies and Empty Fights
Still the northern forest teemed with fresh blood; ignorant faces yet to bear the terror boiling through the main-land of Helovia. The last trip had been successful. Even if only one innocent soul had been found and rescued, that was worth ever hour spent trawling through the warren of old, wind-blown trees therein. Hector swept with the fluid grace of his feathered kin; the strength and vitality of those without embellishment altogether, and the cleverness of the timeless, ethereal race who strode like willow-the-wisps in eerie mist shroud valleys. In his wake streamed a powder-white slipstream, and through the icy moisture danced the breath-like apparition on lookout.
The rolling landscape below transformed from the myriad greens of the thistle flecked meadow, at last into the earthy hues of old pine forest- ochre brown, rust red and shadowy, dull green. Hector had arrived and although previously the air of tension and foreboding had dissolved as he breached this borderline, still the Boggart was sent down first, to scout and make certain no wraiths were hunting through the trees. Meanwhile, the giant chestnut swooped and circled clear of the sparse, spindly canopy, leaning heavily on the switch of his partner’s shrewd mind.
‘Your blood still lingers, here Hector, another...’ The voice rose through his conscience with another tide of wrathful concern. Veci, had found for the taking another Pegasus wandering through the instability of these cursed times- without understanding of the perils snapping so greedily at their heels. Instantly, the warrior’s enormous wingspan had halved, folding artfully to allow his practiced plunge towards the earth. While fuzzed orange ears sought refuge reclining swiftly through the swirls of fire-engulfed ginger mane and forelock pulled from its place, vigilant eyes roved through the strips of space between the scattered trees for sign of this newcomer- if that was what presented.
He could feel the presence of his bonded grow and grow as he neared their position, and at last her pale golden pelt drew his gaze; Gaucho was there already however and Hector could feel the bellow of his choppy tone resonating doggedly through the light zephyr as it patterned wickedly through the region. For this reason the soldier did not descend completely, his enormous frame glided above them, dipping left in salute to his brother in arms, and he continued on to search for more.
[ooc: Bay, they will meet in the caves]
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