It was morning in the Aurora Basin, but the kind of morning that Ashamin suspected could not have happened anywhere else. He had made a daily habit of taking walks with his egg, but now his egg was to walk at his side. His egg was no longer an egg: his egg was the little being, Lochan.

Ashamin had not gotten any sleep the night before. Though now his companion, nestled in the silken sarong that Ashamin wore, had at last drifted off, he knew he could not do the same. Thus it was early when he carried his aching body out of his cave, leaving at his back the softly glowing fire and the scorpion guardian at his gate.

The light of day was bright and the stallion squinted his black eyes to slits. He looked down to Lochan where he slept, content and unmoving, in the folds of cloth. He would have been surprised that the little creature were asleep if it had not been for the excitement of the prior evening. He remembered the visiting spirit with fondness, and as he walked he let his tail sway with the new weight of his gift. The electric coil was a boon--already, it had helped him in making a fire.

His eyes were still half-closed and his tail was still swaying when he took note of the pair in the distance. They did not seem to have wandered past the sentinels, and for this he was thankful. The last thing he needed was to hear that siren song, now. The hazard of living so close to the border had been those midnight, mechanical calls. The only call now was that of the unknown youth at the border.

No, whoever this stranger was, he was intelligent enough to stay on the far side of the border. Ashamin smiled, thankful and instantly respectful. That sort of small kindness, that business of making easier the lives of those in the Basin, was what Ashamin would not forget. And so though his approach was slowed by the sleeping babe at his breast and the still-fading hinder of his gold-marked limp, he approached without a sense of threat. When at last he was close enough to see the other stallion--a creature rendered in black, coated in feathers and horns, and accompanied by a canine--he let out a call of his own.

"Faith, traveller!" said Ashamin with a smile, his voice raised only slightly for fear he might wake Lochan. But still, the cerndyr slept away the day. Soon there was nothing between the pair but a brief and empty patch of permafrost. Behind, the cloven-marked trail that led to the Haruspex's cave was worn softly away by the faint touch of wind. He knew his duty to protect, but felt no threat from the pair at the border. He crossed over it, bridging the gap, and offered his cheek to brush the younger buck's, as he most often did upon greeting. "Tell me, what do you seek?"

Ashamin had the faintest of urges to call the other one young, but knew that the recent turning of his age was not enough to give him the right. Perhaps he was comfortable now in this land, comfortable enough to approach another without much fear in his heart, but the nervousness, though well hidden, lingered. His tail swung low at his back, shooting off sparks that arced back towards the gold, and his mind returned to the night before.

By faith, by the God of the Spark, he was exhausted.

[[For @[Caleb]. :) Do you have a skype, by the way?]]

Ashamin