The walk back to the Throat is a long one, and Volterra is rather glad that it is autumn now, with all of its accompanying breezes and rainstorms. He does not miss the unbearable heat of Tallsun, and he also fears that such an all-consuming inferno of a land might have put off the mare alongside him. Given that they spend much of their time inside their herd boundaries, it is important to be comfortable, and the Throat in summer is far from that.

There is still an ember of pride bubbling in the stallion's chest as he leads his first recruit home. It is a success that he is truly delighted with, as the diplomacy involved in bringing somebody back to the herd is an entirely different skill to the brutish, battle-orientated talents that he usually associates himself with. As well as bolstering the Throat's ranks, it has also helped Volterra step down the path towards leadership - in a way, because he's managed this, he thinks he can manage anything. His already inflated ego hardly needs any more bolstering, but this is a different kind of pride to the sort that he feels when he's taking down a foe on the battlefield.

"We are almost there," he rumbles, his colossal frame slowing its walk down to a meandering plod in order to give Asteria chance to observe the surrounding landscape. They are still on the mainland, and the goliath gestures with his scarred muzzle towards the island out in the ocean. "That island is the Dragon's Throat. We are nearly at the bridge - what do you think?" He's eager to gauge her opinion, to see if she is impressed as he was when he first saw the distance island back when he was a boy. Of course, his admiration was tempered back then by the fact the Sultan had kidnapped his mother, but he thinks there is quite a savage beauty to the desert south.

Up in the sky, he can just make out the black dots of his dragons. They are pleased to see him home and are quite eager to greet the woman alongside him, but he commands them to stay back for now. They are frightening creatures; he does not want to risk them making Asteria change her mind.

A wide grin splits across the stallion's broad muzzle as Asteria sings the Throat's praises. It pleases him to see her so eager; each iota of his massive frame seems to hum with delight at his success. "You are more than welcome," comes his thunderous growl of a voice. It strikes him that they have helped each other out here - he has introduced her to a home that she seems to already love, and she has helped him prove to himself that he can do more than just fight.

With the absence of his dragons, he relies on his own senses to notice when Sikeax draws close. His ears prick forwards and a welcoming snort leaves his nostrils as the Sultana comes closer, accompanied by Hobgoblin. Immediately Vérzés croons from his position high in the sky, and makes to soar down to greet his rougarou friend. But Volterra stymies his attempts with one firm flick of his mind; it is going so well, he does not want his newest recruit scaring off. Reluctantly the red continues his circling high above, but makes his displeasure known in the form of multiple sadfaces inserted into the behemoth's mind.

He looks between Sikeax and Asteria with pride evident in every harsh line of his face - he's like a puppy keen to display his shiny new stick to his owner. It does not occur to him that Sikeax may assume he has only brought this woman home because he has bedded her, or wishes to - he assumes she will be as delighted as he is at his newfound recruiting ability. "Sikeax, it is good to see you. This is Asteria - she wishes to join our herd from the Threshold. She has also expressed interest in becoming one of my warriors." He falls silent, assuming the two women will wish to converse; he is unsure how these things work now, whether it is up to Sikeax to formally invite Asteria into the herd or whether Volterra himself has already done that.

Ack, herd politics. He is a little long in the tooth to be learning them all now, but alas, he must.