The sun rose and the sun set time and time again but still the frostfall season lingered. For the first time since Gaucho had raised her to the rank of Sultana, Megaera felt the wight or leadership settle upon her shoulders. The throat was better suited than most of Helovia to ride out the cold months but food was dwindling and the rush of life that came with birdsong seemed ages away. The constant twinge of worry that flitted in the back of her mind, shadowing every other thought was horrid but not wholly unfamiliar. Motherhood, as Meg had discovered, was much the same. What if something happens? What if they get hurt? What if I fail?…thoughts such as these were bad enough when she had only had her precious daughter to fret over but now they echoed for each and every beating heart in Dragon’s Throat. And in the Sun God’s mirror, dark clouds loomed on the horizon…

Even if she did not yet realize it, the worry was good for Megaera. Little by little it was forging her into the mare she needed to be; confidence tempered by caution, recklessness smoothed by responsibility. Pride…. well that was something that still needed work and was the reason she caught the solitude of the veins, if only for a short time. Prayer had become an increasing habit and for the most part the Diviner’s Fire in the sands of her home was a more than adequate venue for giving thanks to the Sun God, but not tonight. Tonight she brought her worries with her, and those she caught to hide, for who could she confess them to? Gaucho's not one for idle words. Einarr…she would hate him to think her anything but strong… Ampere was too much a rival (even if a friendly one) and Mordecai was just a child. No… Only Gwaihir and the Sun God would hear her tonight (and only the Eagle could she be sure of) so she had set out for the Shrines.

They flew west over the open water, chasing the sun on two pairs of dark mahogany wings. Not even a year together and still flew together as though it had been a lifetime; circling, spinning, gliding, falling... Meg would have been content to simply drift upon the air together for the duration of the journey but Gwaihir had other ideas. Sober and practical far beyond his age, the young eagle insisted that they work at flexing their mental connection. They could communicate to a point, feelings had always flowed easily between the eagle and the pegasus, and even images could be seen by both minds with some clarity, but words were proving more difficult to master. They had managed to pass short, disconnected words back and forth but Gwaihir, haughty and with a streak of pride wider even than Meg, hated to be bad at anything and would not be satisfied. So it was that as the pair crossed over the rocky shoals that edged the volcanic peninsula, the Sunspear tried to communicate exactly what had her so worried. Herd safe. he insisted, misinterpreting her efforts, and Meg nearly sighed. Yes, now. she countered, always? The abstract concept of a future possibilities was proving hard to translate in childish speech. 

Gold.

The mare rolled her eyes in amusement, wondering how on earth he could have picked that word out of their broken conversation. Guard. I guard the herd, she tried to force through but his reply was firm. Gold This time, the pronouncement was accompanied by a fleeting image of something he had spotted that she had not: a gold bannered equine against the blue landscape. 

Momentarily confused, the mare glanced at the golden eagle to her right before following his gaze toward the ground where, sure enough, a familiar figure was marching up the path. Though they had not been very well acquainted, a spike of excitement shot through Meg at the sight of the former Oracle. She had not seen Tandavi since the destruction of the land bridge, and the sight was so wholly unexpected that Meg had no time to wonder where the girl had gotten herself too since them. Leaving Gwaihir to circle above, the Sunspear drops from the sky and onto the volcanic path with a clatter of hooves, setting off at a quick trot to catch up to the golden girl on foot. "Tandavi!" She calls, familiar and jovial as she would be for any desert-dweller.