The land cooled and with it the leaves burned and died in brown curls, littered like rain drops across the earth where the boughs lingered high and proud; the vales were golden, the winds sweet and demure as I fly over head, a deep blue shape beneath me the figure of my companion, her long strides easily keeping up with me no matter the unfortunate state of her earthbound nature. Occasionally, a sweeping joy ascends from her mad dash as she clears a jump or startles a hare, pleasant as the cleansing wind that ripples my pale mane and holds my body aloft.

Today, we are going south; the heat has broken into a gentle lull, the promise of snow, and the desert that was undesirable in the blazes of Tallsun (the oddest of names for the season of Kalokaíri, to be sure) was now open for exploration in ways it had not been before.

Or so I had assumed.

As the meadows ease into sands and the border of the Throat becomes visible (for why else would black fence be in the middle of a desert?), the wind heightens, dark clouds are born on the horizon; the threat of lightning overrides the joy of being windborne, and with a sorrow ancient and deep in the heart of my winged kin, I concede to return to the earth. Skýlos shouts a pleased yip as she sees my curling descent, wings tilted with one point towards the golden sand below to send me in a loose spiral to her waiting smile.

With added speed in the final moments, I playfully sweep overhead Dog, batting her atop the head with the tip of my tail and sending a small, chiming song of laughter into the storm charged air as she dives hard to the left a moment to late to avoid one of our more common games. With a jesting growl she lunges back towards me, teeth gently grasping the strands of pale blue hair and her large head shaking to and fro in the same motion she uses to beat rabbits senseless.

It feels odd as my hooves touch the sand, a spray rising forward to shower in the odd way sand does back into itself. In a flowing motion my hind hoof strikes back with a blunted force, the surprised yip of Skýlos as it narrowly misses her (and her last minute dodge barely succeeds) rising out beneath the rippling row of laughter that escapes me a second time.

She takes advantage of my good mood, as she usually does; with a broad, fleshy smile, she charges towards me and proceeds to lick the color off my face.

"DOG!" I sputter around her disgusting, wet flesh probe, shoving my face forward and head butting her quite savagely (though, as it seems to be the case, it hurts me far more than it ever does her) to remove her assault. My ears lay flat on my head and my nose is high in the air, dismay heavy in my blue eyes at the sodden state of my face. "That is simply uncivil!"

The boom of thunder draws both of our eyes back to the land ahead, myself from my agitation at being licked and Skýlos from the doggy laughter that seized her at my disgust. The rain falls like a great sheet in the distance and approaches fast, and crossly I eye the deluge. A deep sigh takes me, and Skýlos whines – she feels my resignation to continue forward with our intents for the day and not turn back to avoid the storm, and she is no fan of water.

Cantering the final few paces to the outer rim of the land, the first gusts and billows of rainwater pelt down against me as I call out to those who live within.




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