The separation from family was slowly infecting her veins from the periphery. The nights were becoming restless with rich memories of her mother. The kind words of the ‘old one’, and the teasing (harsh and nasty) tones of a warrior she had once knew, plagued her with whispers of another life. But to say she had been truly happy then would be an understatement.

Her people’s ways worked through her nonetheless, rooted in her deep desire to traverse the unknown lands of Helovia. Accustomed to migration, to a life always on the go – never stopping for too long, always ahead or behind the storm.

The little ruffian was tired, however grateful for the sun. She flew from the Dragon’s Throat, elevating herself to catch the gusts, to simply sail along the wind’s crests. Hanging above the restless ocean below, coasting along the edges of dune and sand to map and memorize. The mere idea that she was welcomed to stay, to –stay – on the island and be a part of some permanent congregation, something far larger than herself was a luxurious offer. Perhaps even a godsend? Imparting hope into the recess of that heart, adding to the fire that battled and warred against life’s doubts.

For she would be strong and impervious to its insults, deflecting its slings and arrows. Rather absorb this new land, than waste away entirely to the what-ifs and have-nots, to fear and emptiness.

But rather than tackle the issues themselves, she continued to ignore them. So they festered at her veins, and now they were encroaching upon her heart. One cell – each memory and emotional tie thereafter – of the what-ifs and the have-nots of a mother who’d promised her protection, companionship. No longer.

A shiver ran through her as the next stream of wind pushed her higher up. Normally she wouldn’t give in so quickly, but the fatigue from the uneasy sleep brought her to the Heart. A crater with no name, no meaning nor story to satiate her mind. Nonetheless, it was quite warm. The mere idea of the heat prickled her senses, issuing another chill as she settled near the open pit. A lofty smile curled her lips, stretching out those wings and shaking off the wetness from her body. A delightful squeal rising above the air.

Right then… With a determined huff she milled around, catching the sight of a pretty stone or two. But feeling no need to collect them, she slowly made her way towards the mouth of the cave. It was both alluring and undeniably foreboding. For one who had an infinite love for the sky and the heavens, the caves below denied her of that assurance. Recalling the tense, anxious stir of her mind when she had first explored the caverns. But perhaps… She would test her will, and her courageous spirit? Wasn’t she more, than merely her feathers, or her wings?

With a brief growl, the bay dun filly pushed forward. The stakes were certainly higher this time around, there was no one ahead to sneak and follow. Just the blackness ahead, and the light glow of the quartz stone all around.

To her surprise she wasn’t quite alone. In fact, after catching the hind end of Uriel, she was shocked to discover the feathers lining his head and neck. He looked familiar, he looked like family. And as was customary for the wild youth, she began to pick up her pace with an excited trill into the air.

Do I know you? I must know you! As the self-proclaimed warrior (for she was her own hero, of course) closed the distance, an ache she had not quite experienced in her lifetime throbbed into her being. A homesickness that rolled into a hard ball, knotting her stomach and threatening to escape her throat.

Instead of distancing herself, she broke past any formal personal barrier, and tried to graze his shoulder in friendly reunion. Her closest wing to him lifting, as if to embrace a friend.

Clearly she was not thinking straight. Though the child had not seen any other feathers in this configuration within Helovia. And it was, indeed, a signature of her people. For now she would have tufts for hair, but they too would shed. And then she would have feathers like them – him.

Unable to contain herself, as bizarre and spontaneous as she was; the girl shyly laughed. Thinking, maybe he knew where they were?