Snow was stupid, as far as the brute knew. It was a horrible thing, far too cold, white, and perfect. So he took it upon himself to destroy every little perfect patch of snow on his approach back to the threshold. It was simple, really, his large hooves made perfect impact markings upon the snow. His large spread wings were perfect for fucking everything else up as well. What was originally a beautiful picture was horribly destroyed and mangled by a man that one, hadn’t gotten laid in a while; and two, seemed to have no real direction or motivation in the herd he was a part of.

In the wake of his destruction of the harmless snow, he found himself among the vaguely familiar trees of the Threshold. The place where Graasvoel had stolen his sister away from his side to live in the same herd as the bastard and the Elephant General. And oh, how the blue jay had tried so hard to convince his beloved sister to move to the Throat with him, so he could protect her from the Dorobians at any cost. But no, she was still not by his side, and he was still trying to figure out exactly where to go from here.

His heavy footfalls gathered snow among the navy hue of his lower half, his bright blue eyes surveying the area around him as his wings remained folded tightly to his back. His ivory head lifted, sniffing the air briefly for any hint of life. He wasn’t disappointed when a strangely familiar scent came across his radar. His head tilted for a moment before he pinpointed his direction in the area the creature was headed. He smelled like home – of the sands and bustling city life of the Bahari. Sunjata would do anything to find out just who it was.

As he approached, he slipped out from the cover of the snowy trees to spot a red body among the ivory snow. It took a few moments to register who this person was, but it hadn’t taken long before the name crossed his mind. With a bright smile against his blackened lips, he stepped a bit closer. “Arende? Is dat jy ou vriend?” He called out, his native language coming back into focus as if nothing had changed. Eager blue gaze lingering on the figure he had dealt trades with in what seemed like a lifetime ago. Perhaps things were changing for the better – a sense of purpose toward meeting old friends.

"Talk."

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Is dat jy ou vriend? - is that you, old friend?