The summer months have come and the silver silhouette of the regal knight reflected out upon the horizon. Ashamed, he had taken time to himself through the spring to just spread his wings and was scarce among the group he called family. Golden crest glinting against the sunlight as he gazed upon the rolling falls in the distance. The mist cluttering the heavens in a soft warm haze while polish gold daggers ripple and smear within the grasp of rushing spring water beneath him; it was a good day but had he missed anything while he was away on his little venture? Probably so, but alas in good time he had returned to keep his promise to the golden king Midas.

Like a song warming the heart, his mind snapping back within its skinned bony prison, the call of demand danced through the oak and pine, harboring tune between the misty falls. It was him, Midas had come once more to call his brethren in close. What news would he hold? If not dethrone him of his Sleuth position because of his absence among the herd. With a guilty, but happy heart the silver night wasted naught a moment in time, and bounded off the cliffs edge in a plume of feathers and water splashes.

Electricity flooded his veins, sparks kissing across his dappled skin as he slithered across the skies with grace and power. Answering the call of his lord wouldn’t be easy, as the sound was distant. But he was in a whirlwind of speed, like a hurricane he spun through the clouds. Golden hooves tucked to his chest, gaining speed as the group took shape in the distance. Naturally, his eyes didn’t fall upon his leader first but instead that of his kin. The winged brothers and ladies, the horned and gift less stood upon the earth, glued like helpless creatures. Poor things, he did feel sorry for them. No weaponry, no gift of flight. New faces stood among the group, and a smile formed upon his velvet lips.

Putting his shame aside, he dove toward the group with grace, obsidian wings etched in ivory expanding and arched to catch the misty flow beneath them, easing his landing on the side of the group at a good distance as gold touched emerald in a gentle embrace. Fluffing up and pulling feathered appendages close to his dappled frame. Chiseled visage marked with an ivory blaze gazed upon the group through eyes of gold. Toned cannons laced in black silk tipped with gold mirrors shifted upon the earth, wind-swept threads twisted and mingling upon his toned nape as he turned to gaze upon their King, his savior; Midas.

He spoke nothing, but let the words speak through the joy in his eyes, the pride in his stance, and the energy that sparked around him. It was good to be home.

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