You may think it an attempt to feel cold, though Cathun did not really feel warm.

The stallion had already attempted to lock himself in a Northern land, but felt that the ice did nothing to hinder the continuous spew of fire from his being.  The emotional support of the snow and ice cloaked across the land settled his nerves, made him breathe deeper.  On the outside, his body raged, but on the inside, the internal storm  began to clear.

Defeat which lay beyond his current state of mind rested in wait.  There could be no pity party, no show of regret, nothing but the undying will to succeed if he was going to.  The mortality of himself and another rested in that delicate balance of emotional fortitude.  He had expected much in his return, perhaps some fanfare at his return to the Throat.  Instead, he returned following the death of Gaucho, the displacement of Megaera from the throne, and Ranjiri nowhere in sight.  The thought that she had left Helovia rattled him fully, and even now he fought to recover the fierce determination that had dragged him back home.

The same which pushed him from the warm embrace of the desert sands out North, seeking unfortunate storytellers to further his quest.  He needed to learn humility or some shit; he still was uncertain what that bastard God had wanted.  So far, no epiphany occurred during his day to day interactions with herdmates.  He was still perhaps the greatest oddball they had seen during the day.  The Burning Man, the Living Fire, the Funeral Pyre - apt titles he could one day hoist behind his own if he ever survived long enough.

The sun rises overhead as he walks past the last few lines of dwindling trees onto the steppe.  Even though the rest of the world grew gradually colder, leaves turning to brilliant shades of yellow and red, the Steppe had already been overcome by winter.  Snow blanketed the ground, revealing a pristine and unbroken realm of white.  Like the sun above, Cathun walks, distilling the winter chill as he passes and leaving large imprints in the sand of various shapes and sizes.  The angry hiss of fire surrounding his ears as he travels, seeking the top of a small knoll.

The small crest hardly provides a vantage point, but much like the flatlands of the desert, the Steppes offer superior foresight.  In all directions, he can see the world expand.  His vision is halted by the denizen trees of the forest, the rising peaks of the mountains, and the glaciers to the North.  Everything seems quiet, aside from the haunting dance of fire and ice below.

""

---

ooc -- @Persephone .  Hope you don't mind.  The open thread got a reply, so I wanted to toss this up for her <3