<sub>"Do you understand Hector?"
"Yes Master."
"Good."

The haggard old punch made his way across the elaborate courtyard with his young student and swiftly on towards the arena. Sand caressed his hooves as a beige coloured circle enveloped them and Hector felt his body tense. However, the scene twisted and mutated, the old master flying further away. In its place was a grassy field and a bunch of colts, they called him names and nipped at his fur. Hector backed up to a tree, trapped and helpless until a harsh looking thoroughbred marched in, shouting orders. It didn't take long for the colts to scatter and the scar covered General to turn to him.

"Oh well if it isn't the bastard Hector"

His maw twisted into a sneer as he turned as if to leave, but his chestnut coloured hide stopped and turned back slightly.

"I can't believe you still dare to stay here"

A cracked hoof suddenly flung out and was about to crash into his face-</sub>
--
Hector's eyes flung open and he stared at his surroundings. The brute had been stood under a tree and dosed off, although it was around midday. Breathing fast, he angled himself away from his small shelter and headed towards the lake, shaking his head in attempt to clear his mind of the dream. Or memory.

The lake sparkled and glistening in the glaring sun, emphasising his bright orange mane in the light as he arched his neck to take a drink. Orange eyes disappeared as chocolate coloured lids closed over them, turning his mind to concentrate on the water lancing down his throat. It was so calm and serene, the Dragons Throat. Hector liked it here, no bullies, no harsh shouting Generals... No high and mighty Emperor. The image of his father entered his mind and Hector flicked the water above his head to snap the image away. I don't need him to protect me anymore.

It was true. His father and Emperor did protect him, but not in the loving way a father should. Hector sighed and moved away from the lake and looked over the plains in front of him. The air smelt of the sea and the wind was gentle as it flicked his lion tail around one leg and ruffled his feathers.

Edging into a casual walk, Hector wandered through the herd land. Hoping to find others, he knew so little about this land.

Kri the Resolute



I notice the strange body posture with which Hector holds himself as he walks. The vague expression on his face is also a clue that I use to deduce his mind is probably trapped in a realm far from my eyes, the realm of the past. This was a place that we physically escaped with ease, but whether or not we could truly ever leave it behind in our minds was an entirely different and difficult matter.

My wings tilt downward gracefully, without much thought behind the motion. It was repeated countless times in my lifetime, so natural as if I was breathing in oxygen. Flying was something that took me less active concentration than walking. I am a child of the sky, there is no doubt in my mind about that. Feather make a soft hum in the air as I descend, my back hooves extended and prepared to touch down, making for a quick and efficient landing. Perhaps lacking style, but I was not here to impress. Only foolish young foals thought that aerial tricks were fascinating, as any competent adult could easily pull them off.

Unless they were my daughter - her flying was shockingly atrocious.

My hooves call forth a plume of dust as the red sand lifts in response. The air quickly clears, even as I make my way at a saunter toward Hector, his bright orange mane gleaming in the sunlight and beckoning me toward him. “Hector,” I say, my voice friendly, but not overly so. “You look downtrodden, brother.” I extend a feathered wing toward his shoulder, the tips of my feathers to brush his coat gently before I recall the motion with a look of quite sympathy. My face then returns to its normal, hardened exterior, as if the softer face had been nothing but a short lived mirage.
""

The beat of new wings drew the lost gaze of Hector upwards to view the silver bay who was making her way gracefully downwards. It was Kri. The resident leader of the Throat herd and the mare who had taken him back with her. As her hooves touched the floor the edges of his maw twitched into a half smile, glad for some company. Hector hadn't quite figured the land out yet and one of the greatest anomalies for him was Kri and her herd. This land she had taken him to was so peaceful. The brush of feathers glanced over his shoulder and the orange brute looks up to catch the faint expression of sympathy before it turned back to its normal, impenetrable exterior. Hector silently cursed himself for his inability to hide his feelings from his own face, to conceal the pain that always laced itself into his features.

Feeling slightly embarrassed, Hector dropped his gaze from the chocolate mare and refocused himself. "Kri" he smiled faintly again and pushed all his memories away from his own mind. Conscious that she was still there, he looked up once more feeling more in control of his expression this time. "Oh! I'm sorry... Sometimes I get caught in my own past." A nervous laughed wove its way into his booming speech as his own embarrassment threatened to send the stallion running. Get it together Hector closing his orange splashed eyes slightly, he turned to look out over the Throat land and sighed shakily.

"Really though, I should have better control over myself. It's pathetic." His eyes drooped to the ground as he watched the red sand dance around his hooves in the wind.

Kri the Resolute



He is self-conscious, so very wary that I have seen through the thin veil of his face and to the thoughts in his head. In his defense, I had caught my eyes on his brown figure with flaming mane much sooner than he had noticed my own dull appearance in the sky. There had been no time to hide and protect the innerworkings of his mind, but even if he had the time, I would still not judge him.

It is common thought that warriors are meant to be emotionless machines, built only to kill and not to feel. However, I know that this is a fallacy. One cannot be a warrior and not feel. Your heart is the crucial weapon against your enemy, for you can face a stronger opponent and still rise victorious. What is the difference? The difference is the cause behind your fighting. The defender will always have the advantage over the invader, for they are fighting for what they love, what they care for. To be emotionless in battle is a sure failure.

You have lost before you have begun.

"On the contrary, brother," I say to him, my voice strong and warm, though my face keeps the same impassive expression. At least today it was not curled around anger, my eyes like fire rocks of sapphire. Today, I was calm and collected. Today, I would bond with this strange stallion in my herd, I was certain. "Emotion is beautiful and powerful." I give him an awkward smile, my lips tugged in an expression I was not entirely used to. Lately I have been plagued by serious thoughts, much like Hector. Helping this stallion could help rid my own mind of worries, or so I hope.

"We would never learn, were it not for our past. It teaches us important things, so it is well not to brush it off casually."
""