As much as you swore to yourself up and down that you didn’t care, your throat was still tight as you headed south. Idiots, the lot of them! The threshold had been a waste, that was all, you told yourself. Only the inefficiency of your strategy bothered you, you repeated. Over and over, you drilled the mantra into your brain, muttering under your breath as you traveled. It may have been mind-numbingly boring, but you would continue for as long as it took to remind you that you felt nothing. Because who cared that they hadn’t wanted you? What did it matter that you had watched from the shadows as they came to collect younger, stronger, more beautiful specimens? You didn’t want them either! If you had nothing else, at least you had your dignity.

The skies were ominously gray, and you darted an apprehensive glance upwards, choosing to distract yourself with the more immediate problems of your situation. With a light shiver, you wondered if it would snow tonight, hoping vehemently that it would not. You had almost made it far enough south to winter, but a storm tonight surely would not be good for you in your condition. With a touch of fear—no, not fear, caution, you corrected yourself—you remembered last winter and perhaps more importantly, how you’d barely survived it. You weren’t exactly looking for a repeat performance this year, which brought you to where you were now: the southern regions of Helovia.

Of course, never having been in a herd here, you knew little about and had taken equally little interest in the politics of the land. You had no idea that the desert you were roaming was actually the borderland of the mighty Dragons Throat, nor that you could go no further without having access to the herdland. It was only when you saw the ocean that your heart sank in dismay, realizing the gravity of the plight you were in.

As if it sensed your impending doom, the wind began to pick up, howling across the desert and throwing red sand against the matted hair of your once-white coat. Growing ever-faster, it whipped around you and picked up your tangled locks, sending the hidden glass baubles tinkling wildly against each other in a chaotic staccato rhythm. A low moan escaped your throat, rusty with disuse, and you stumbled away from the shoreline, where the waves were beginning to crash and pound with alarming intensity. Why you? Why now? If you believed in fate, you would have said that she had a sick sense of humor…but then again, you already knew that. You fought against the windstorm for a while, practically crawling along the dunes with your form bent by the wind, but finally it was too much. Succumbing to the mercy of the elements, you sank to your knees and buried your head in your chest.

What an unfitting end for a lady like you.

OOC: Looking to join, because desperate Sheba is desperate :3

This was a mistake. The whole trip was a mistake. She'd locked herself up within the caves for a short amount of time to pick away at the food hiding away in the cavern, but now, it'd turned into a horrible mistake. Wind howled with a rentless scream as orange and red sand flew through the air like sparks of a fire that blinded her. Shivers danced through her skin.
She just needed to get back home.
Dust collected in her eyelashes and led her to seal off her pale blue eyes. There were options, yes, but she was too far out to make a choice that might make the better of her. It was either go back to the caves(and who knows if she could make it back to there in time, or even find them) or make a break for it the border and dive. Swimming in the ocean in Frostfall might bring Death her way, but what were her other choices? Be beaten without mercy with sand, dust, and any other horrors of a sandstorm while flying over to the Dragon's Throat?
So suddenly, living in the desert didn't seem so well. There were sunburns in the summer and fucking dust storms in the winter. She was locked away from the world with ultimate safety, but held into a prison cell that she held the key to. Living in the caves didn't seem so bad no-
Hobgoblin screams something terrible through their bond. Her baby. Her brother, her soulmate, her everything had found himself in trouble as far as she could see. The beast had only gone forth to see how far they were from the beach, and she, blind and naive before the storm began, daring to think that the winds that howled like dying victims of some horrible thing would even chose to pick up pace and carry the earth with them.
Panic sets in. She needs to make sure he's okay. In her own blind panic, she runs, sprints, moving as fast as her legs can carry her into the storm just to find him.
His talons search for mane in what he thinks is now a corpse. Screeches fly from his jaws repeatedly as wings flap harder and harder, attempting to land beside the horned cadaver. The overall appearance of it is enough to say that he could make an easy meal. Sikeax might not enjoy the prospect of him poking around a dead animal that shared a species with her, having dropped itself by their border, but hey, who was he to be picky? Food was scarce in Frostfall.
"HOBGOBLIN!!!"
Her voice comes through the storm like a beacon in the fog, showing him exactly where she is at. Calls fill the air, trying his best to get them over the sound of the wind out to her. For once, instead of hating her, he trusts in her for survival, hoping with all of his small heart for the faintest blue glow of her horn.
She comes through the storm broken and tired, blinking madly as tears stream down her cheeks. It hurts to see, but his presence warms her heart.
It shatters the moment she see's the unicorn, hoping, praying to the Sun God that they're still alive. A corpse on the borders of the Dragon's Throat would be an omen. "Hey!" She lowers her head and reaches out with her horn to gently stab the horse, hoping for some sort of reaction.
Hobgoblin, feeling her urgency, digs through the storm for hair once more, tugging if he can find a grip. "You need to get up! You're going to die in this storm!"
Gaucho is going to kill her if she was to drag them across the border, but what choice did she have? The circumstances were extreme and she needed to make the right choice.
"Get up! Please! I can get us across and out of the storm!"
Please still be alive...

OOC: Hobgoblin is in his Wyvern form.

@[.Sheba]

As you laid there waiting to die, it took you a while to register that the screeches you were hearing were not just the howling of the wind. You chanced a glance up and came face to face with a THING that sent shivers racing down your spine and a scream off of your tongue. While the scream was immediately whipped away by the wind, the terror was not. What was this?! You tried to move your legs, but nothing happened. As if this was a scene from one of your nightmares, you were trapped, rendered immobile by stiff joints and by nature itself it seemed: even if you could have managed to stand, it was doubtful that you would have been able to travel far. You could only shrink back as the creature reached at you, all teeth and sharp talons, seeking to sink them into the stringy flesh of your neck. At times, it came disturbingly close and you felt sharp tugs at your mane, but the wind prevented it from landing. You’d never wished for short, ugly hair so badly. All the while, the Thing screeched, and you laid there still, trembling from the effort it took to get up.

And then, from the side came a sharp prodding, and you twitched and screamed, thinking it had finally got you. Not wanting to be torn limb from limb, you struggled, adrenaline lending you the strength to thrash about wildly, pointing your horn in all directions. Between the storm and your rheumy eyes, you could not make out the figure of the other unicorn until she yelled, screaming above the storm, “You need to get up! You’re going to—“ Just as Sikeax pronounced the word die, your legs finally moved and you rocketed up unsteadily…to come face to face with one of your own kind. “I can get us across and out of the storm,” she cried above the wind, and though you may have thought she was crazier than a loon, you took a halting step closer, using her for protection—both from the storm and from the Thing you were sure was still lurking around somewhere. “Yes,” you whispered, voice a low rattle in your throat. You did not have the strength to yell above the storm as she did, but you indicated your consent with a nod of the head. You’d rather not die alone, after all…you just never would have guessed that it would be in the middle of a sandstorm with a stranger who’d lost her marbles.

@[Sikeax]