Being on guard didn’t always mean keeping an eye on what might be crossing the borders. Danger existed everywhere, and it was Azzuen’s task to ensure such things did not harm his herd. But the stallion was not expecting this.

The shriek of first another stallion and then a much more familiar tone rising in pain triggered an immediate response in this monochromatic steed. His flight diverted immediately, his broad wings easily gaining the speed required to reach them before they completed their f absorbed what had occurred in a second, and in the next second, he was falling, purposefully, diving beside them.

“Cass! Concentrate! Fly straight, fly with me, Cass!” He was distraught, but his rich tones rumbled forth regardless, as he awkwardly positioned himself beneath her and to her weakened side, his wings flapping just enough to keep his own flight path straight and hopefully support whatever weight he had set himself up to carry by putting himself in this position. She had a broken wing, but she could still flap, at least with her good wing. He would be there for when her other wing failed.

“Jaydan you fool! Snap out of it, help us!” He shouted, the anger and panic clear in his words that only just made sense.

“Onni!” He shouted again, summoning the healer they would undoubtedly need once the ground that was rushing up to meet them did indeed collide with them. He dared a glance at the sandy basin below them, and braced for what would be an uncomfortable and painful landing – but not deadly. They would have bruises, but they would be alive, at least.

Untangling himself from the pile of wings and legs, he winced at the tender spots he felt on himself, only fearing what he wound find when he looked over his beloved mate.

“Talk to me Cass, tell me you live…” He pleaded with her, thoughts of taking her pain away absent for now – he would gather his senses again soon, right now he needed the comfort of knowing she was alive, with him.

He was beside himself, his entire bodice quaking with fear of what he could lose. But she was alive, he could hear it, feel it, her heart still thrummed within her breast. He was devastated at the amount of damage her delicate body would have endured, such a fall was not likely to be survived, but she did have the two Pegasus males buffeting her fall. Absently Azzuen looked to the gelding, a fleeting lance, panic trying to blind his usually clear and sound mind, but he fought it. The fog of confusion would be pushed back, he had to focus now. He shook his crown, and felt as if his brain was rattling about in there, so crumbled was his resolve.

He snorted, and with the expulsion of air, attempted to dispel the wayward thoughts of distraction as well. If this were any other member, aside from his daughter, he would be much cooler, and in control. He had to control himself now – for her. He saw her responding to him, leaning his crown in close to her, he held her touch and tried some more to appear as nothing more than a pillar of strength to her. He could see the love, the devotion in her eyes, the will to live – but it was obscured, and he could only imagine the all-consuming pain she must be in. He could fix that, he realised with a start, and swiftly he gathered his senses and allowed his magic to flow through her, to nullify all the nerves that would feel pain, so that instead she would only feel a pressure where the wounds were, her senses still able to identify the damage wrought but not feel the sharp, stabbing pain that would tear her to pieces. Yes, that much, he could do.

Onni arrived, and without hesitation called upon the God of these boiling lands to summon forth the powers of healing. Azzuen dutifully stepped back now, wings folded against his sweaty sides, his breathing still quickened, but slowing, and deeper. No heed was paid to the slight aches he might be feeling, no attention given to the fact that his knee was swelling up, nor that his rump ached with the old memories of a tree slashing across it; no, these things needn’t take up the time and effort of Onni, the natural process of healing would restore them to rights.

Once again, rough glance was thrown at Jaydan, possibly a bit sharper than the first, blurred one, this one containing an accusing question, edged with a bristle of protectiveness. What was the gelding doing anyway? Falling from the sky with little control was not a training exercise he knew, certainly diving or twisting one’s body in a controlled manner was familiar to him, but to give up, and allow the rising ground to pound one’s body into pulp? He was not coherent enough to join the dots together – his own mother had committed the very sin Jaydan had tried to do when she lost her mate, only she chose a different method.

Given time, he maybe would see things differently. For now, the blame was upon the blue one.