Ring a round a rosie,
A pocket full of posies,
Ashes, Ashes, we all fall down

The night was always a welcome reprieve from the sweltering heat of the day, but after only a handful of hours it was morning again. Cineviam would daresay that the rigors of the prolonged Tallsun left nearly everyone a little parched and skulls were beginning to crack open, allowing seeds of prickly burrs to be planted in the surface of exposed brains. They were only a mild inconvenience now, causing shortened tempers as the unrelenting sun plotted against them all. But the burrs would grow, nourished by the heat and light and he wondered how long it would take until the sharp thorns spurred the citizens of Helovia into war.

Because the sunlight fell straight down through the tree branches, leaving the shadows to pool tightly against the trunks, Cineviam knew it was nearly noon. Many of the Edge’s mares and stallions would be seeking the deepest part of the forest, where it would be coolest, perhaps to nap away the worst hours of heat. Since the hot temperature seemed to bother the sooty leviathan the least of his comrades, far less than stormy weather that tried to sweep his ashes away from him, Cineviam chose this time to take a turn at patrolling the Edges borders.

Hanging upon the sultry haze (like a body dangling from the hangman's noose) there is the aroma of sweat and insecurity—a new taste upon the air (upon his mottled tongue) of new flesh. Dipping in and out of shadows, he closes in with swarthy footfalls, cloven hooves cushioned by ash and muffled from dense feathers. Ahead, he spotted the speckled rump of the frost king, who seemed to be keeping a watchful eye on the newcomer. A shadow of a shadow, Cineviam mimicked Mauja – stopping when he did and matched every step.

When Mauja peeled off to block the intruder’s path, he finally got a glimpse at the peaches and cream stallion, blood red eyes immediately noticing the lack of a horn. Still mirroring the ruler of the Edge, he circled around to cut off the equines retreat. Stepping out from the last screen of withered bushes shortly after the usual inquiry was made. “Stray too far from the well-beaten path and get lost?” he hazarded a guess, glancing at the brown dragon perched on the hornless’ back with mild suspicion.