She follows; slowly, languidly, in the painted mare's wake, a shadow with no purpose but a desire to know more. She does not realize her pursuit; it is not an conscious thing, merely a meeting of paths, a similar destination for dissimilar purposes. Kahlua seeks the Veins to find comfort in the company of others, while Tandavi pursues them to find the solitary safety of stone spires and Gods.

Nimble feet sketch a well-worn path, the kitsune a leaping shade beside the vibrant fire child. The pair exchange fleeting thoughts, both embroiled in a sea of contemplation but neither, for once, bogged down by despair. Tandavi thinks of Caneo, and the warmth of having someone to truly call friend. She thinks he is blue like the lava which falls away into the sea beside her- not quite fire, but still something hot. There's more, she knows, which she does not know, more secrets behind the azure eyes. She wants to learn them all, one by one, but she's afraid they won't have time.

She has found that everyone leaves, eventually.

A figure at her feet makes her stumble and start; Natraj glares up with care in his eyes, silently chiding her for the trail of her thoughts. No sad, he scolds, and she nods her agreement, the line of a smile curling upward at her lips. "No sad," she agrees, reaching down to bump his hip and send him sprawling in the dust. He is so very small, but he doesn't mind, merely rolls back up and strikes at her face, leaping onto the messy forelock and carefully walking down her neck. She knows she needs to be stronger for him. She knows he misses them all, too, despite his desire to hide it from her.

They reach the crest at the tail end of the conversation, taking in the voices (mostly voice) of the two adults. They come into view a moment later, an unfamiliar bay and a paint she can remember, a mare whom she had seen at the gathering, speaking after to the Earth. Curious ears sit forward on her poll, bright black eyes cautious and alert. She hears something about containers, and lids, and a problem settles like a puzzle in her mind, begging her to solve it and taunting that she can't.

Her black voice floats on the frigid air, toward the mismatch pair of equines. "Build a top," she suggests softly, wondering what could have made her speak. The idea of introduction nags gently at her mind, but she ignores it as she often does, too caught up in a new idea to worry about things like social etiquette. The faint tones of strange music are beginning to rise into her ears; she steps forward, carefully, craning her head to see what lies in the pretty basket the mare holds. Why not simply put something on top? The solution seems simple. She wonders if there's something more.

Natraj does not share his input; he is too busy staring at the little blue, his heart racing and aching to play, to explore. It reminds him of Akiath and their cousin's summons and Kali and every winged creature he ever loved. He used to believe he might one day be a dragon, but both boy and his sister had quickly realized they were very different from their kin.

Tandavi

She does not see the stallion disappear, merely comes under the realization that he is not there, that his form has somehow vanished back into oblivion. The knowledge trickles through her mind and is filed away: she is still too fascinated by the puzzle to broaden her awareness, focus her attention on the creatures who surround her. If only she took a moment to look, perhaps she would recognize the mare from her youth, draw together a memory of carefree days beneath fragrant trees, of herd meetings and warm crowds... but then, perhaps not. It is long since the fire child walked within the mist. She has painted new memories, filled her mind with new tales.

Her dark gaze leaves the basket to settle on the mare, one ear turning uncertainly as her suggestion is repeated back. The tinkling laughter which follows is more unsettling; the girl takes a cautious step back, unsure, silver forelock drifting in front of black eyes. Is the mare insulted, or does she think the girl dumb? Frustration begins to bubble beneath her skin, an irrational ire brought upon herself; and from her back Natraj growls low, a soothing sound as he licks her withers, claws digging into the skin on her spine. Breath escapes from its catch in her throat. Calm down.

Blinking back her growing ire, the girl inhales, filling her lungs. Endless eyes follow the mare's blue sky gaze, tracing the lines of the basket she wields, considering it closely through the mare's bright voice. The more she thinks about it, the more she considers that Kahlua might be right- better, perhaps, to start from scratch. A clean container, pristine and pure, unsullied by sundry objects and wayward germs. What do you think? she asks Natraj, but the boy is caught again by the little blue dragon, ignoring his sister in favor of a new friend. Thin fire lashes from his cream-tipped tails as he presses his chest against her back, hindquarters raised in a display of friendship. The flames dance with the sparks which float gently around his sister, and he waves them eagerly as if to challenge, Can you do that?

The girl sighs, and shakes her head.

Gold slashed face turns up to the mare, a thoughtful softness on the delicate features. She is beginning to believe that the paint is sincere, that she truly believes Tandavi has an answer- and what can the girl possibly do but oblige? It does not occur to her that maybe she cannot find a solution, that she is too young, to fiercely naive. Somebody needs her. She cannot back down.

"Yes," she says carefully, an answer to both questions, a thoughtfully chewed out syllable. She searches the mare's face for answers, for ideas, mind churning fast and words falling slow. "The water would stay clean with a seal... but how would you purify it to start?" She exhales absently, a cloud of sparks forming around her head, painfully unaware of how close the answer was. Right in front of her face, really.

Tandavi

The slender wraith shifts restlessly, mind still churning with ideas, picking apart the delicate puzzle and searching for answers to questions she does not fully understand. Still barely more than a child, the girl is untried and untested, perhaps not the best to be faced with a challenge; she is a creature of ideals and ideas, of abstract concept and ardent heroism.

Still, the girl is better suited to the task than Kahlua may be. She blinks at the older mare's heavy sigh: she is too fascinated by the puzzle to be frustrated, blind to the ire which taints the paint's thoughts. Head tilts and she shuffles her hooves, weight swaying impatiently from hip to narrow hip. Almost expectantly she looks to the other, waiting for a suggestion, for a thought to pierce through their thick, pensive silence, while around her chaos in the form of two companions is exploding. The girl ignores them as best she can, though she cautions Natraj to be careful: though the dragon already is nearly as big as her brother, she knows that the kitsune can hold his own in a spat.

Gold eyes laugh as the blue breathes yet fails to ignite, great puffs of air leaving his lips. A strange vulpine chortle racks his small body, immediately followed by a yelp of alarm as the dragon plays his trump card and flies overhead. Delicate paws swipe at the beast; the black child growls, leaping up slightly but painfully aware of his inability to fly. He will have to think of another way to impress the dragon. The boy makes a show of indifference before leaping down from his sister's back, darting into the sparse growth to show off what he's certain are superior hunting skills.

Kahlua's answer does not come- at least, not in a form the girl finds helpful. Frowning, the copper girl thinks to the little she knows of the world, the experience she has had with purifying. There is not much to draw from, yet something tickles the back of her mind, a memory of borrowed magic and the wonder of watching a wound be healed. She had mimicked her mother's powers, once, and watched as Smoke mended a wound on Amaris, looking past the flesh and into the soul, the very biological structure of the afflicted leg. She remembers, now, the way the dark infection seemed to be devoured by the medic's wind, the way the taint was purified, swept up into black.

She looks at the sparks in front of her, and an answer begins to form in their midst. "I could heal it," the girl suggests, tossing her mane to send more embers flying. "Burn away the impurities." It seems silly, said out loud, yet she holds her conviction, clings to the idea for it is all she has. She has been asked for help, and she shall not fail: not again, not this time, not when this mare seemed to think her so capable.

Her brother returns as the mare speaks again, a small snake clutched triumphantly in his teeth. Oversized ears perk up toward the stranger: Edge, he states easily, sensing his sister's uncertain response, the mild uneasiness she feels at being recognized by someone whose looks she cannot quite place. But with his reminder it all seems so obvious- the scent, the dragon, the lack of wings. And yet that awareness does not make her rest easy. "Maybe my mother..." she offers, uncertain. Surely there was no true similarity between the bright copper child and her moonstruck dam? Natraj shrugs, but offers no help. He is waiting for Kahn to notice his prize.

Tandavi

Fire dancer tries not to flicker and fidget, but the second seem like hours as she waits for the stranger to weigh in on her plan. Ears sit alert, black eyes expectant; she cannot help the smile which creeps across her lips at the smaller mare's enthusiasm. She thinks she has never met anyone so happy, and though the blind vibrancy of Kahlua sets an uneasiness in the girls' toes, it is also infectious, enjoyable, something entirely different from the shroud of anxiety she has cloaked herself within of late.

She nods, her brow furrowed in mild bemusement- of course the girl will be true to her word. Why would she offer, if she had no intention of follow through? Her excitement, while perhaps pale besides Kahlua's glow, is still beacon, an ember in the dusk- she is thrilled to have found a solution, an answer to a question she stumbled upon in the dark. It sets in her a pride of sorts, a realization she may be good at something she never thought to have talent in. And the older mare's approval, her pleasure at the girl's skill... the girl fidgets, almost uncomfortable with her delight in the praise. How long has it been since someone older, wiser- since nearly anyone had called her actions perfect? And though this mare was different than anyone she had met before, freer, perhaps, with her joy and her praise, well... Tandavi lets her guard drop for an instant. Lets herself feel pleased with the things she has done, rather than distraught by the ways she has failed.

She is saved from her confusing thoughts by her brother's return, and the distraction of the scuffle between dragon and fox. It takes all of Natraj's concentration not to bark out in shock and lose his prize to Kahn's toothy grip. The dragon descends like lightning from the sky, a bolt of blue and suddenly the onyx fox finds himself fighting to keep possession of his prize. Short limbs scramble to find purchase on the rocky ground; his hind sweeps up and his forequarters dip low, a faint growl building at the bottom of his chest, mischief positively glowing in the wide golden gaze. He will certainly not let this- this kit claim his prey!

The girl wants to laugh, or roll her eyes, or both, but the mare's voice cut back into her mind, drawing her gaze away from the pair. Black eyes widen in surprise and awe as a stone at the mare's hooves sprung to life, light pouring out of it, into the chill air- "It's beautiful!" she exclaims, just as her brother arrives in a sprawl at her hooves. The force of the boys snapped the snake, and as the kitsune attempts to regain his dignity he clings tightly to the piece still clamped within his jaw. Three tails shake off the dust from his tumble; casually he moves to examine the rock, as though that was his intent the entire time.

Put in your hair, he suggests to the girl, ignoring the wry gaze she's fixed on his form. He tries to take it from the mare, valiantly struggling against its weight despite the fact that it's a quarter of his size. Fire dancer suppresses the urge to laugh. "Thank you," she smiles, dark voice warm with a sincere joy.

If only the moment could have held, the joyous perfection extended through time. The girl is ready to claim a new friend, before that friend gained a title, a name, and everything changed just a step to the left. Fire child's eyes fade, grow wide with a much less joyous surprise- Queen of the Edge leaves her suddenly cold, lonely and nostalgic in a deep, painful way. So this is the woman who has claimed her aunt's place, stands in her steps and wears her heavy crown. She had always known, of course, that the Edge would have a new queen. But somehow just hearing it made it too... real.

"Oh," comes an answer from the depths of her shock. "Oh."

She isn't quite sure what to feel.

Tandavi

She does not have long to stew in her own dismay. The girl is accustomed to falling into herself with no sight of escape, being caught within the chasms of her mind until time lends her the strength to claw her way out- but she is shocked, stunned, electrified out of her own despairing memories and convoluted past by the hideous expression which rises upon Kahlua's face. Why...? she questions silently, trying to discover what had changed. Was there someone there? Were they in danger?

But the girl sees nothing when she looks around, black eyes tracing the rocky outcrops and faded paths, head swinging wildly to find the source of the Queen's distress. Her brother, meanwhile, peers from Kahlua to his friend, seeking an answer in the blue dragon's eyes. He knows that it's him, some crime committed by the innocuous fox- but what has he done? Why does she fear him? The dragon offers no answer to the unspoken question, and for one of the few times in his life Natraj is at a loss for how to proceed, utterly bewildered and miserably sad.

He takes a careful step closer to the painted mare, the snake still clutched between his teeth, all but forgotten in this change of events. Both boy and his sister watch Kahlua scramble for her basket, frozen, unable to comprehend- "Wait!" cries the copper child as Kahlua bolts, darting after the queen on gold-splashed legs, scrambling over rock and slate, down the path and out of sight, vanishing from the boy's view.

Natraj does not move from his place upon the glowing rock. He does not know where he would go.

The girl winces as jagged stone tears into her hooves, stumbling and slowing in her pursuit. How frightened must the mare have been, to endure a haphazard run across this terrain? Why? "Kahlua!" she cries, but it feels futile, and her voice burns with desperation as she blinks away her tears. They had been getting along so well, and she had felt appreciated, worthy... fire dancer tries to understand, but can't, and she shakes her head to clear the cobwebs of emotion strung by spidery doubt.

One thing she does know is that she must fix it, must find the mare and understand, fight the demon which plagues Kahlua, who she thinks may be the kindest creature she has ever met. Tandavi's view of the world is clean: Kahlua has been kind to her, has been nothing but delight, yet lacks the strength to face the fear which stalks her hooves and burns her heart. The Fire Dancer is a Templar, a Knight; she is sullied, too damaged to ever be good- and thus she must save a beautiful soul from a similar fate, must be champion to a mare she barely knows, but knows where to find.

The Edge.

She swallows, a sinking fear rising in her throat. She'll be a champion, just... maybe not yet.

Tandavi