Things were changing in Dragon’s Throat. The herd that Megaera had dedicated herself to wasn’t the largest in Helovia and the ranks of the warriors were few, and so Gaucho had set their current hopes on other measures. With the Sun Gond’s blessing, the whole heard would soon be working together to protect the Throat by breaking the land bridge that connected it to the mainland. It seemed a smart security measure to Meg, but to her it still seemed better to back up those measures with a strong fighting force. The little warrior, rarely skilled at making a good first impression, left the recruiting to the more diplomatic members of her herd and had lately stuck close to home, trying never to leave a corner of the Throat unwatched.

She didn’t spot the newcomer until he was near the fire and from her current altitude he was little more distinctive than a black shimmer on the sand. Still, when Meg focused her sharp eyes on the figure, she was set on high alert. Images of her herdmates flashed through her mind as she tried to place the black figure. This one had wings, which ruled out the two colts she’d been on patrol with. The mane and tail weren’t washed in white, which ruled out the Sleuth and the Chancellor. A stranger. Without a moment’s hesitation, Megaera pulled her large earthy wings close to her and let herself fall. She hurtled towards the ground in a tight spiral, aiming for the diviner’s fire and rapidly picking up speed.

The mare crashed to the ground a few yards from the flickering flames. Her landings were normally so ungraceful but purpose gave a tightness to her movements and even as her hooves sent a cloud of dust and stones she was solidly on her feet. She spun to face the supposed intruder with a stern stare. She stood quiet for a moment, sizing up the stallion before her. Why did they always have to be so enormous? Automatically, she drew herself up, wings high , dark feathers flared and hooves firmly planted. “You’ve come unescorted to the Diviner’s Fire. State you purpose, stranger.” Her unfeminine rumble came out in clipped words. It was a mark of the progress she’d made in her time in Dragon’s Throat that her tone wasn’t overtly hostile. Still it should have been clear that Meg took no nonsense when it came to the protection her home. Troublemakers were not welcome.

Megaera wasn’t the type to let jealousy corrupt her thoughts and actions. She was fair, pragmatic when it came to who and what she was, but even so, that little flair of envy would pop up from time to time. She was a warrior; wanted to protect for family, fight for them, die for them if she must, but when she stood herself next to Gaucho or Hector and now this black monstrosity, she thought how much easier it would be if had their kind of strength. That wasn’t all, she had to remind herself, she might not have their brute force she had speed and endurance on her side and could probably out-fly any of them.

She was stubborn too. When the black stallion whirled and mirrored her puffed up posture, she didn’t move an inch. When he declared himself a warrior of Dragons Throat, her black eyes flashed and narrowed. If he thought he could pass himself off as a brother-in-arms without a better explanation her would have another thing coming. He moved forward and to the side, clearly unintimidated, and proceeded with his terse introduction. The first sounded like chastisement, and that grated. How dare he barge into her home and correct her for defending it. She managed to bite off the angry surge that might have been her first reaction. She cocked her head at his mention of the Chancellor, his struggle with the name put her in mind of how Gaucho would sometimes struggle with the common language of Helovia. Even the thought of her beloved general was enough to calm her ire a bit but she eyed the newcomer speculatively. For a moment, though she relaxed her posture, she remained silent and still a bristly. She liked to be on good terms with her adopted family but stung pride made her unsure has how to proceed. She’d be damned if she’d apologize for doing nothing she thought wrong.

“I spoke as I meant. It’s my business to guard this territory against intruders. If the Chancellor has invited you then you are welcome here.” Her voice didn’t yet have the warmth that she gave to members of Dragons Throat, but it was civil and only a little bit stiff. “I am Megaera, a warrior of the Throat. I don’t know how much Bucephalus told you, but Helovia has not been entirely peaceful of late.”

The little warhawk watched the black beast carefully, suspicion trying to find something in his actions to root itself in. If she thought he meant any harm to her herd she’s oust him in an instant, or at least she could try too. He held firm, and seemed set in his dedication to being a warrior here. It might have been the bias that knowing Gaucho gave her, but his slight struggle with the common language of Helovia did him credit, definitely not giving her the impression of some silver-tongued spy attempting to infiltrate these lands. He seemed like he would be a useful addition to Dragon’s Throat, and running him off would do no good.

Her rash actions were definitely a flaw she was aware of, if not one she’d been able to curb very well, and she tried not to give too much thought to the bruise on her pride. If she wanted to be taken seriously, she had to learn, and this had just become another quick lesson. Meg was a relieved when he changed the subject, and followed his gaze to the bright flames she loved well. As she spoke, her stance lost the rest it it’s threatening bristle; wings folded in and rested upon her hips and ears pricked forward, alert, but not unsociable. “This is the Diviner’s Fire. The Sun God set it ablaze but is usually tended by the Oracle of Dragons Throat”

A few steps brought her to stand nearer the flames and her new aquaintence. “Sometimes He will grant them visions in the flames. I’ve seen it happen for Tandavi, and for Africa before her. Otherwise it’s often used as a gathering place to the herd.” She Smiled then, it was hard not to when she remembered all the times she had been comforted by the fire, made friends around it. “I always feel comforted here, and it makes a nice spot for reflection of you can find yourself here alone.”

Megaera well understood the black stallion’s fascination with the fire, she had been just as curious when she’d first come here. Her childhood home had been a cold wasteland, with no gods to speak of and empty of magic. In Helovia she had discovered wonders and had embraced them with open heart; this fire being one of the first miracles to melt away her suspicion and fear. Her gaze wandered from the fire only when he questioned her again. Her head tilted slightly at his strange words, they definitely had a similar sound to the language Gaucho sometimes used, but she could put no meaning to the individual syllables alone. What what kind? “Sheck vojor…” She repeated quietly and slowly, imitating the sounds. “Do you mean the Sun God?” It made the most sense for that to be his question, given the things she had just told him, and for another moment she though over her answer. Was He kind? It wasn’t something the mare had considered, and she had little enough individual interaction with the deity to truly know. “No, not kind… Powerful…” That much was plain enough “And beautiful… He protects this land but more, I think, because it is His than a selfless love for those in it.” He explanation was lacking, she knew, but it encompassed all she had seen and heard of her God. She wanted to know more herself, but the gods were distant. Fearsome creatures, and Meg was afraid of the Sun God even as she loved him.

The mare remained where she was and watched carefully as the stallion moved around the fire, sizing him up and a new comrade, as an opponent. He was about Gaucho’s size, which she knew from her recent spar with the Sultan meant a few solid hits from him and she’d be gasping for breath, but at least he didn’t have antlers for her to worry about, or spikes around his neck. Her shoulder gave a twitch as she remembered those spikes, the four thick lines of newly healed scar tissue still itched from time to time. His second question had her turning back to the fire, thinking fondly of the two diviners. The affection came through in her voice both herdmates, past and present. “No, not warriors. Africa was more of a counselor, very kind and sweet. Tandavi…well I don’t know her well but I think she is strong, on the inside more than anything, and the Sun God chose her as his voice so…”

Her voice trailed off as she turned her head back to the stallion. He was staring at her rather that the fire and that puzzled Megaera. She was nothing special to look at, especially next to the enchanting blaze in front her. There was something in his gaze that the little warrior could not place; primal, almost predatory. Whatever it was in made her feel slightly unsettled, and when Meg was unsettled her temper began to rise. Her back tail whipped across her hocks as she shifted her position, angling herself to face Einarr instead of the fire. “What?” Her tone was just a bit sharp and ears fell a fraction closer to her skull. If he was going to attack her, she’d throw the bastard into the fire and damned if she’d go too.