It may seem like I say this a lot, and maybe it is true that I do. But it is still going to take me awhile to get used to the sun. As warm and welcoming as it is, the moon brings a peace that the sun cannot. To me the sun is harsh and unyielding. Though it brings warmth and life it also burns and scorches. I know that the sun is necessary for Earth to continue, but that doesn't mean that it is my favorite. No, I still prefer the moon. But don't tell anyone here in the Throat - I do not want them to think poorly of me.

It is these thoughts that swirl in my mind as my delicate hooves toss sand to the air in my meanderings. Wandering through the desert may sound like a foolish move, but whether the Sun is my friend or not, the Throat is my home and I am peaceful and happy here. The sand is not so hot so as to burn me, but warms the frogs of my feet and over my fetlocks as it lilts through the air and back to the ground. My mane flutters in the slight breeze that comes and goes, keeping the hot air tolerable. It will be worse in Orangemoon, and then we will ALL be wishing for a little less sun. For now, though, the temperature is pleasant. I keep walking, but close my eyes, letting them rest from the glare that beats down. It is nice not having to squint, sometimes.

When I open my eyes again, a figure has appeared in the distance. I can't make out who it is, but I'm in no hurry. It doesn't seem to be moving any faster than I am. I keep my wings folded at my side and continue walking - albeit a little faster - toward the figure. As I get closer, I can make out the form better, the haze of the sun's heat no long obscuring the geometry. Closer still, and I start being able to make out body color, hair color, and begin picking up scents. A young girl, it seems. Her body like the sun, but more red and less yellow. Her mane and tail long and thick, pale. It comes to my attention that she is not alone, and there is a fox that attends to her. When I am close enough, I stop and wait for them to approach me. Once they are nearer, I think that maybe I should speak. But I don't want to speak. The sun takes the motivation right out of me, and I simply wait for her to speak. I don't think I know her, but then, I am so forgetful sometimes.

"Speech"
Tags: @[Tandavi], WC: 460, Other: Oh, good flow!