A laugh, clouds steaming into the air from a pale muzzle and a small, black beak. The bundle of feathers perched between his ears, kept there by some ungodly balance it seemed to posses and enforce through its sharp talons and thickly padded feet. He preferred the mere weight of the feet to the grip of the talons. But, it was probably a good vantage, he had to cede her that. She saw what happened, more than if she sat on his withers. Someone had once told him that birds preferred high perches, and he guessed that the only thing higher than his poll was his ear, and it was far too flexible to sit on. Besides, his scalp was protected by a thick layer of mane, making less of her clinging attempts come through to his skin, whereas his ear... Well, it'd be a bloody ribbon by now.

She was young yet - very young. She slept most of the time, demanding food every so often. Quite often. She burrowed in his mane and pecked at him for attention, but how was it different from your child's curiosity, and desire to be at the center of your warm eyes all the time? Likely she was too young for this venture and the questions they posed, but it still felt right to take her out here, onto this vast expanse of snow, where the dying sun glittered like a fire in its own right, yet lacking the heat. He preferred it this way, cold and beautiful, more bronze than flaring golden. Mauja drew in a deep breath, chilly air soothing the feverish need in his lungs. Winter. It was coming, and it did nothing but fill his body with a soul-warming joy, something giddy and elated which seeped through his bones. It obliterated what other emotions might lurk in his system.

There was a reason he'd come out here. The day he'd stepped through the portal of light, tossed through the eye of time and back again, he had emerged upon the Frostbreath of another age. The steppe had looked much the same, cold and crisp and covered in snow, the horizons as he knew them - but a tree, an egg, and an owl had awaited him. Not once when he had traversed the landscape of snow, which was more often than he cared to admit, had he seen the tree, or any other tree. A few shrubs, but nothing at all like that thing... Which had been entirely out of place on the snowy landscape.

His gaze swept the horizon again.

Snapped to a dark figure.

Of course, it wasn't a tree, but something about the creature made him stop dead in his tracks, staring with wide eyes. It hadn't been there before - and it couldn't have just sprung into existence, could it? Maybe two hundred yards - or more - separated them, and Mauja's ears flickered back and forth uncertainly. He was fairly certain he'd never seen it before... but why did it feel like something about it crushed against his spirit? Why did he stop where he stood, as if afraid to move closer, afraid to - fool - upset the black stallion?