Roaming eyes could search all they liked; it was unlikely they would settle upon the shimmering, fuzzy image of the little shadow that stalked the Threshold. A golden ray of sunlight – or was it a dragon? – filtered through the canopy above, darting this way and that. It was indeed a dragon, a queenly one at that, golden as the sun’s surface, glittering brighter than a sparkling crystal. The creature was bonded to the shadow-mare, by a link than ran deeper than even the ties blood could offer, a bond that combined their very souls and minds.

The collapse of the exhausted belle were noticed, particularly by the dragon, who created a worried song as she flew above the roaning filly’s stance. Motions were made, a little ways away, by a dark smudge of a mare, it was difficult to know however – if one did manage to focus upon it for more than a second, they might think it was merely a trick of the sun’s heat, and continue on with their life. But it was a living, breathing creature who orchestrated this magic, this magic that defined her, just as her bond with her dragon did.

A smooth melody was hummed from the maw of the mistress, as she crept closer to the youthful femme. The shimmering veil fell away from her, and as she approached it was as if she were pulling herself directly from the shadows of the surrounding forest. The Threshold was a comfortable realm, for this mare enjoyed forests, but it was too close to the outskirts, too near to the part where Helovia became undefined and the wilds of the outside world more dominant over one’s existence. Warm, honey-gold eyes peered out from beneath silken tendrils of the charred mare’s forelock, a kind gaze held within them, though very little else was expressed by this devious little mare.

“I mean you no harm.” Her voice articulated, careful tones chosen as she approached the tired belle. Charred tiara lowered, her soft, plush muzzle extended in ofference of a comforting nudge – it was up to the youth to accept it however. “Sleep, if you must, you are safe under my watch.” The mare encouraged, soothing melodies accentuating her exotic way of speaking. “I am Mirage, my golden friend is Akaith; we will watch over you.” Just as Mirage had needed her friends to watch over her when harm struck her path, she extended the kindness that hid behind her usually hardened exterior to this helpless femme, hoping she would grace her ears with words that would help her identify her.

“When you are ready, rise, and we can travel to less hostile grounds.” Nodding, the mare still encouraged the youthful mare to rest some, or else her energy would be sapped from her altogether.

Mirage watched the mare, carefully, assessing whether she was ready to rise – in all honesty, the little shadow thought it best that the belle lay and rest for a minute more, she was not in immediate danger, at least the charred flicka could not detect any. But the mare had spirit, rousing herself, Mirage stepped closer, her sturdy frame easily being available to lean upon. Scout ahead, Akaith. The quiet request was made, though it hardly needed to –the dragon was already in the air, checking that the vicinity was safe.

“Lean upon me, and let us walk, you can rest at the Thistle Meadow. I am here.” She reassured the belle, not knowing whether her speech was even having an effect, positive or negative.

[will continue on in a thread in the Thistle Meadow]