Here he is - again.

Just like last time, it's raining heavily as he plods dejectedly into familiar territory. He hadn't meant to come here, but his aching legs simply guided him of their own accord towards somewhere they knew. He recognises these trees, trees he'd sheltered under last time, trees he'd blundered into as he fled from the horned-winged-monstrosities that had greeted him all that time ago. During the months since, he has tried not to dwell on what he saw last time he was here, but he knows that if he is to make a life here, he'll have to get used to the freaks. Because it's apparent now that he's just too damned unlucky ever to find himself back with humans, so he's going to have to co-inhabit with other horses if he wants to survive out in the wild. The Helovians he'd met had seemed friendly enough despite their deformities, and better the devil you know...He'd rather come and live with them than risk the ire of any other wild herds rampaging around in the wilderness.

The idea of having to live in a herd makes him roll his upper lip in disgust, and one immaculately trimmed hoof stomps down irritably as he plods along. After all, not everybody is a pampered, prissy gelding who has never known hardship. The horses he'd met last time emenated wildness, reminding him of the unbacked youngsters he'd known around the stable. They were feral, and if he was to survive then he must become like them. He knows he cannot survive alone - he doesn't have many useful insticts, but he does have the one that tells him he needs company, needs socialisation, needs a herd to protect and teach him. He's survived alone in the weeks since the tornado that cast him away from his home, but it hasn't been easy. If it wasn't for his ample stores of fat, he'd probably be dead. He daren't eat anything except grass for fear it is something poisonous, and grass is so boring. A week or so ago he found a delicious apple tree and nearly had an aneurysm with glee, but barely managed to wolf down two juicy red fruits before a small herd of bachelor stallions chased him away from it with kicks and bites. They sensed he was an easy target, sensed he was different, and he'd fled with bruises on his rump and jibes of ball-less freak ringing in his ears.

Stallions are assholes.

The idea of living with them is vaguely frightening, but Badger tries not to think about that as he trudges the final few steps into the Threshold, his heart pounding. No going back now. Any second now, he'll undoubtedly be approached by a horned or winged monstrosity, and he steels his quivering body in anticipation. The rain makes it cold and he tries to put his shivering down to this, not fear, nope. ""

He sees fire.

The sight of it terrifies him. He's reminded of the barn aflame, the shouts of humans and the screams of trapped horses, and his ears slam to his head. His eyes roll in fear, his legs shuffling him backwards until his rear hits a tree. The fire is in the shape of a stag, of all things, and something about it tells Badger that he needn't be afraid. But he can't help it, can't fight the tide of heart-thudding fear that grips him. In the corner of his mind, a speck of logic questions why the rain isn't extinguishing the fire, but his last experience in Helovia reminds him that anything is possible here.

To compound the gelding's terror and confusion, a queer fish-like creature floats around nearby, clicking away. Don't come closer don't come closer... Of course it comes closer. A voice tears Badger's eyes away from the flying fish and towards the mare that follows, like a strange herd of fish, horse and deer. She has wings - because why not - but her body language puts the black at ease, and with another rain-induced shudder he forces himself to relax. Thank goodness she didn't approach him last time, else he would have keeled over at the sheer sensory overload of so many things at once. At least he is now somewhat accustomed to horses having wings, if not floating fish and burning deer. He drags in a deep breath, reminding himself that he had to expect anything here, and had to get used to all things odd if he was to fit in.

He manages to look at the mare, his eyes lingering slightly south of her own so as not to stare. Staring is a sign of dominance, after all, and Badger doesn't have it in him to dominate anybody right now. "I've...been better," he confesses, snorting and side-eyeing the dolphin and the fire-stag. "Wh...what's with the fish and the stag?" he questions, head tilted back to eye the trio warily. His forelock - so disgustingly tatty after weeks without grooming - flops pitifully against his sodden halter as he jerks his head around to keep all of them in sight.

He continues to eye her warily, sweat beading out on his skin beneath the layers of rain-created moisture. She speaks, her voice unlike anything he's ever heard before - her tone is kind, but the words are unique, queer, clipped and Shakespearean. "G...glad to hear it," he says, teeth still chattering from a combination of the cold and his fear. His sodden tail swishes limply, pathetically, behind him, and his warm brown eyes are filled with abject misery. What he wouldn't give for a snuggly stable and the attentions of a human to care for his every whim...

The mare introduces herself and her fish, revealing that the stag has no name. "He's...he's made of fire," observes the gelding, somewhat dumbly. "How?" She suggests they find shelter and he nods so vigorously his neck cricks - that's the best idea he's heard all day! But where? The trees nearby have begun to shed their leaves, and thus give scarce shelter from the hammering rain. "Where would we go?" he questions. At this moment in time, he'd follow her like a foal at his dam's heel if she could lead him to shelter and warmth. "I'm Badger," he adds as an afterthought.

Just then, another arrives. Despite himself, the black's face splits into a goofy grin when he sees a mare who is decidedly equine and - what's more - her sides are swollen with child. Oh, he loves foals! Their innocence is endearing, and he does love the way they play so freely, their spirit not yet broken by human nor life itself. "Oh, you're pregnant!" he says gleefully, his misery momentarily forgotten as he eyeballs the mare's belly happily. New life! He might not be able to create it himself, but he can still appreciate it. "Congratulations!" He shuffles aside to make room for Mrs Waddles, always a gent around the pregnant ones. He'd been kicked in the face far too many times to deny a pregnant mare anything she wants.

"It's nice to meet you too. I'm Badger." He's unsure whether to introduce Laedere too, as he doesn't know her well at all - he declines for now, so as not to be rude. He looks between both mares with hopeful brown eyes, praying one or the other will either invite him home or show him to shelter.

A God of Sun? "There's...a God of Sun?" What in the name of all things holy? The humans had often spoken of a God, and Badger himself knew of the sun that rose and fell on the horizon and brought the seasons with it, but to combine the two? Odder and odder. Again he reminds himself he must keep an open mind - everything here is different. He might be scared, he might want to tuck his tail and flee back to the comfort of a humanized world, but he knows he must come to accept his new life and his place in it. Horns, wings, fire-creatures, Gods of Suns...he must digest them all and try not to let his utter horror and confusion show.

Laedere mentions a cave, and Badger could well have broken the land speed record to get to it if he'd known where it was. He nods vigorously, waiting for her to lead the way, his ears fixed on her as she mentions a herd. Another shudder wracks his frame and his eyes wobble in his head, but he fights to keep his nervous reaction under control. He's frightened, naturally, but he knows it's for the best. "Y...yes, I think I would like a herd. Can you tell me a bit about yours?" He's painfully aware he knows next to nothing about wild herds, because all he knows are human-created ones of geldings, mares and the occasional foal. His instincts - buried deep, deep down in his genetic makeup - tell him of stallions and their harems, of strong kings who fall to stronger and of bachelor colts roving like bands of brothers until they monopolize their own mares, but maybe even that is different here. How will he fit in?

But he can't worry about that, because it's a better alternative to starving out here alone. He looks back to Lakota to cheer himself up, a smile still twitching at the corners of his mouth at her question. "I love them," he enthuses, boyish exuberance etched onto his face. "The bond between dam and child...there's nothing like it. I'm sure you'll be a fabulous mother, miss. Are you hoping for a colt or filly?" Maybe deep down there's a part of the man who longs for a child of his own - not through any particular natural urge, because that was snipped away with a few expert movements of a vet's hands, but because he genuinely adores youngsters and their innocent, expressive ways. He would love a little one of his own to nurture and teach...well, teach what little he knows. There's a small note of sadness in his eyes as he looks at Lakota's lovely bulge, but it quickly disappears to be replaced by genuine happiness. She is blessed, and he doesn't resent that.

He follows the two mares eagerly, not just because he wants shelter but also because he finds he enjoys their company, frightening as it is. Seeing Lakota in her normal equine, pregnant state has given him hope that there is normality here, some little piece of home in this far distant land. Lakota speaks of Falls and Throats, and Badger listens with pricked ears to try and glean as much information as he possibly can. If he is to join one of these herds, he needs to know what he's signing up for. The notion of a winged herd is mildly terrifying, but...maybe if he slaps on some feathers they won't notice?

His attention flickers back to Laedere as she speaks, as she uses her wing and her pet fish to allow them entry into the warmth of the cavern. The gelding sighs with blessed relief as the rain finally ceases, his muscles twitching to rid himself of the excess droplets. Much better.

Laedere's way of speaking is queer, to say the least, but Badger finds it rather...soothing. He grows lost in her words, his ears flapping to one side as he listens intently. From what he gathers, somewhere called the Falls has new leaders which don't sit well with the pegasus, so she moved to this Throat. Tis a comfortable life, with a steadfast conjunction to kinship. A comfortable life - O, for a comfortable life! That sells it to the pampered steed and he finds himself nodding along with her voice. Kinship. Perhaps these Throat residents could grow to become his friends as well as his herdmates? Maybe his craving for human company will fade and lessen if he has companions of his own species? After all, he's only been back here a few moments and already he's met two mares who he gets along with, who don't want to eat him...

She offers an opportunity for questions, and the black steels himself. Now or never. "Could I...come with you there?" he asks shyly. The place seems like the lesser of many evils, and if he doesn't ask the question now, he never will. He looks to Lakota, big pregnant Lakota, and offers her a warm smile. "I wish you luck with your child, miss," he says softly. Oh, he does hope she has a healthy and safe birth - another innocent life brought into the world. He looks back to Laedere through hopeful brown eyes, praying he will not be turned down now, when he's so close to a home.