The warmer air brought with it clearer skies and rising air currents that made the Edge a pleasant place to live for a pegasus.  Especially Iona, one who spent more time in the air than on the ground since she had figured out how to use her wings (months before Aly figured out hers, she might add).  Warm air meant more gliding and less flying, facilitating extended exploration and patrol in the air with very little effort.  However, after hours in the sky, Iona began to get the distinct feeling that she was putting off the task of getting to know her new herdmates.  Avoidance – her old friend.  She huffed and shifted just so, changing the airflow over her wings and bringing her back over the deathtrap glass wall and into the heart of the edge.  Her hooves clattered against smooth stone as she absorbed the impact, taking a few steps to slow her momentum.
 
Iona tucked her wings neatly against her sides – concealing the ugly scars around both wing joints.  She had been worried about the lasting effects of her injuries.  Though she was healed hours after the…encounter, which had left her so broken, she wasn’t sure if the magic would restore them completely.  But her wings had yet to falter.  She felt no fatigue, no soreness, no stiffness to indicate that there was something below the surface to draw her attention.  All that remained were the ugly stains upon skin that now served as a permanent reminder that trust was not something to be given freely - especially in a world where magic permeated every facet of life.  Iona appreciated magic, she could recognize the inherent value in it, but she was always wary.  That wariness served her well now.  Maybe some called it paranoia or overprotectiveness, but Iona would take the flak over another attack any day.
 
The painted pegasus let out a soft huff and craned her neck around, green eyes always searching the shadows.   Finding no eminent danger lurking in the shadows, she turned and headed closer to the cliff edge at a leisurely pace.  She finally drew to a halt a safe distance from the sheer edge, resting a hind leg as she listened to the distant sounds ocean throwing itself against the rocks below.  Salt was heavy in the breeze and washed gently over the edge, whipping her eternally windblown mane into a further frenzy.  Yet, overall, it was a peaceful picture and she couldn’t help but think aloud, with a sigh, “I could get used to this.”

Iona let her eyes slide shut as the salty breeze rushed up over the cliffs.  She allowed her wings to relax at her sides, enjoying the feel of the wind playing with the soft, well-cared for feathers.  The salt burned in her nostrils and the smell of the sea was heavy in the air, but overall, Iona had adjusted to this new life quite well.  She could certainly see the attraction to the place and could understand why Alysanne had chosen to stay for so long.  Her eyes shapped open at the sound of clattering hooves on smooth rock. Of everything Iona had been expecting to see today, this had not made the list of possibilities.   A filly, clearly testing the limits of her downy white wings.  It was hard for Iona not to think of her own twins at the sight.  It felt like only yesterday she had taught them how to use their own wings.  But both were now grown and gone – off with their father in a realm barred to her.  An unpleasant twinge tore through her chest at the thought, but she quickly pushed it away.  She let out a hard sigh, frustrated at herself for tainting the afternoon with such thoughts. However, her attention was again captured by the girl who had become her company on the cliffside.

Her head whipped around in time to see a small mass of white feathers tumbling towards the edge of the world.  Iona's heart crawled from somewhere in her chest up to somewhere nearer to the back of her throat as said mass of white issued a sound of pure fear.  The painted mare's blood ran cold at the youthful sound. Before Iona could properly process what was happening, before she could even think to herself, Too close, too close!, the girl was hooves over head and close to heading over the sheer cliff .  Iona reacted instinctively, but not without a stream of profanity exploding from her lips, and leapt over the edge, diving to create speed before opening her wings and turning sharply to come up from beneath where the child was struggling.  If Iona could catch her and stop her forward momentum from this angle, maybe it would be enough to keep them both on the right side of the cliff. However, if the girl was already too far over the edge, Iona doubted she'd have the momentum to get them both back over the side.  Then they'd both risk meeting the rocks and the sea. At least with the breeze at her back she would have the added advantage on her side

Iona, who took pride in being the observant sister, mentally berated herself for not seeing the girl before she had come so close to getting to know the rocks at the base of the cliffs on a personal level. She could empathize, on some level, with the girl. Iona had taught herself to fly at an extremely young age which resulted in multitude of scrapes, cuts, and bruises. She hadn't, however, had any uncontrolled tumbles off the edge of a cliff.

If they survived this encounter, she made a vow to herself to ensure that this would be the girl's last tumble.  She just had to get the girl back on her feet first.  As Iona breached the cliff, she found to her great relief, that the girl hadn’t tumbled over the edge.  She spread her wings to slow her momentum, hovering just off the edge from where the girl had fallen.  “Are you alright?  You’re not hurt, are you?” she asked, the concern evident in her voice, as her heart rate slowly returned to normal.
 
Iona allowed the breeze to carry her back over solid ground and slowly found her footing once again.  She moved closer to the girl and tried to ascertain if she was alright, though that was Aly’s specialty – not hers, but knew that if anything the girl’s pride might be wounded.  “That was quite the tumble.  You need some help figuring out those wings of yours?”  Iona couldn’t help but offer.
 
“I’m Iona, by the way.  What’s your name?”

It was clear to Iona that the girl had been rattled, coming so close to stumbling over the edge.  However, there was something else in the filly’s expression that the painted mare just could not place, something far beyond just fear.  It rattled the normally distant woman down to the core. 

Again empathy for the girl flared hot in her chest.  She had taught herself how to use her own wings, having been rendered all but an outcast by her own mother.  The only constant in her own life had been her sister.  Even then, Aly always had been more drawn to the earth.  The skies had always screamed Iona’s name.  She remembered the isolation of being earthbound when her pureblood family swirled in the skies above.  All she had wanted then was acceptance.  She assumed that mastering flight would be the first step towards gaining there respect.  But no matter how adept she became, no such acceptance came from her family.  

Iona took a step towards the girl her own eyes flickering over her injuries to ascertain whether or not they needed attention from her sister or another healer. “Chin up, Snowdrop,” Iona said, easily, “You aren’t the first one to take a tumble learning to figure your wings out, trust me,” she added, with a wink.  “I’m a spy in the herd, but my sister is a healer if you want that knee looked at, she added, with a gesture to the girl’s foreleg.

She beckoned the girl follow her and moved about 50 meters inland from the edge of the cliff before again turning to the face the sea. “Alright, Erthë,”  Iona began, slowly unfurling her great wings.  ”You can’t fight the wind – It will always be stronger than you, even when you’re grown.  You can, however, make the wind work to your advantage.  Iona lavished in the feel of the breeze rushing over the cliff edge threading through her feathers.  ”Always take off into the wind, and when the wind is strong like today, you hardly need to use any energy at all.  Iona looked over to the girl to make sure she understood before demonstrating what she meant.  She adjusted her wings just so to maximize the amount of lift and sure enough the wind picked her front feet off the ground before she again shifted and found the earth. ”If I were to pick up my hind legs, the wind would have carried me backwards, that’s when you put your wing muscles to use.  Small beats of your wings will keep you in place, larger ones will carry you forward against the wind until you can turn and let the wind carry you.”

”Think you can try?” Iona asked, curious to how the girl would react after her brush with death.