"Whoa," a voice echoed across the icy tundra of the Steppe, its tone full of honest surprise mingled with a hint of admiration, and perhaps even a shadow of wistfulness. The voice was mine. It was ushered into existence by the genuine surprise that took me when I spied something that stirred a great many feelings within. Fire, I remembered fondly, though sadly, was your element. I spoke to Sitka still, not knowing if he heard me, or if I was simply speaking to myself. I never heard his deep, melodic voice, that reminded so much of my father's deep hymns, reply, though sometimes I felt like it stroked me during my sleep, wrapping around me like a mother's comforting embrace, or a father's protective stance.

Then my dreams became nightmares, as I awoke, to find that you were indeed, gone.

The surprise came from the sheer unexpectedness of the appearance of sparks, and flame, upon the permafrost, the land that never seemed to change no matter what season took flight across the sky above it. The admiration came from one who was born into a land of wonder and mystery, of magic and illusions - one who could appreciate without instantly fearing the unknown, the unexplored, the unlearned. One who, more than anything else, found these things worthy of admiration before hate. The wistfulness arose after the memory of your own flames ignited along your back, the many times they chased away the cold in those would-be-deadly snowstorms. And perhaps, the flames too reminded me of the pillar, the beacon, of my homeland, which, through its sheer familiar, permanent existence, managed to offer me something akin to comfort and solace.

"Hey there, little FireBringer," I greet, my tones friendly, my voice carried from my lofty perch in the skies, my broad wings carrying me with ease over the youthful belle, to land before her in a smooth transition from flight to standing upon the ground. "Pretty nifty trick you've got there," I comment, winking playfully at her.

I wondered what she was doing North, for it was not often one with wings was seen this far beyond the Arch. I had gleamed from my encounter with two unicorns that it was primarily the horned variety who resided North, in the Basin, still - that much had not changed in my absence. I noted the horns that curved atop her crown, and wondered if perhaps I was wrong, again, about the (so easy to make) assumption that every unicorn who lived North was a racist - was she the result of a love borne between a horned one and a pegasus?

There was something that made me want to consider her for longer, something familiar that tugged at my memories. But I wasn't one to simply stand before a new creature and stare her down just to satiate my own curiosity.

I usually just asked straight out for answers, but when my questions were unknown even to me, I opted for something simpler.

"I'm Cirrus."

@[Aithniel]