Autumn wind rustled between golden primaries, where they reached wide to embrace each current in return. Patrol was a simpler task than normal, with the removal of the land bridge. There was less land to cover, and though Cera had been anxious that perhaps someone - or worse, a group - would come demanding Gaucho's head, the seasons had passed without incident or even whisper of dissent. Perhaps the citizens truly held faith in their Gods, even in the revealing of the fact that one of them had killed so many of their mortal kin. It was so far beyond Cera's comprehension that he had lived in fear of Gaucho's safety, for no matter how skilled the Wildfire was, he could still fall to numbers. Yet they never came, and the borders remained empty except all those who sought friends or to kindly break words with the leads. It was a bright spot in a past that was too blackened for Cera to dare to gaze back at. He knew it still lingered in his soul, but he tried every day to burn it away with the Sun's light. Prayed that he would succeed.

You will, Cera. Warmth spread throughout the young stallion's body at the words that resounded calmly, resolutely through his head. Turning to look over one bony shoulder, the youth smiled at her. Ilaria cling tighter to his nape, incapable of patting him fondly on the muzzle as she often did when they were not in flight. She had been his greatest supporter and pillar of strength throughout his life, second only to Gaucho and Midas. And Ranjiri, and...and Hototo. Cera let the grief wash over him, calmly accepted it, acknowledged it, and let it fade away. He was learning. He was growing. In time it would be something he could handle, and though he was unaware of how soon loss would again rock his life, the strides he was taking were something to take pride in even if nobody knew he was doing so.

Gaucho would be proud, Ilaria pointed out softly as Cera's head returned to normal flight position, eyes scouring the watery borders on both sides of the rift. Cera smiled quietly to himself. "I wonder where he has been," the bird murmured to himself, brow drawn close in curiosity as he mused over the potentials. Gaucho was as dear to his heart as Ranjiri, and to see his sister bond with the beast only further filled his heart. Gaucho was family, forever. To have them all connected at last was a dream come true.

A slight form caught the eye, approaching on the sands across the far water's edge. Cera swept down immediately, curling in on his slight frame and swooping towards the water in a strong curve against the wind. As he moved closer, a very quiet voice met his distant ears, and head cocked as it recognized the syllables - well he should, at least. That was his name. But who was it? Ilaria too seemed impossibly curious, and the pair dove farther down, skimming pale hooves across the water's surface. Banking hard left, feathers kissing the liquid in turn as Cera settled delicately on the sand before the mare. The mare he finally could discern, the one he knew. "Rasta!" he chirped, running towards her, slowing only so he wouldn't crash into the slight maiden, extending his muzzle eagerly with an outwardly blown breath so that she would know his touch was coming.

"Are you well, sister? Where have you been?" It seemed ages since he'd last held Rasta against his form, crafted the bronze crown that still sat atop her forehead. How had she fared with all the darkness of the world as of late? Relief clutched his tender heart to see that, at the very least, she was alive and physically well.