It had been another hard pressed week, Midas felt more sore and tired than ever. The recent wave of fresh blood had put his skills to the test and kept body on its feet long past shift. Cera had been begging of late to take leave of the Throat and visit outlaying lands. Feeling to be the neglecting father, Midas gave in and promised with that same old smile, “Fear not, we shall take a small vacation when things settle down dear one.” He had no idea of what such a promise would later cost.

Physical aches were nothing compared to that of stress brought about by rumors that circled and whispered of treachery within the herd. Emotional drama and the like had caused reason for tired lines to crease a normally jolly face. Gossip of demotions and challenges drifted across the wind, begging for truth to be brought toward light so all could take witness.

"Children of the desert,"

Ears swiveled round to catch drifting echo’s, Midas stood near the outlaying boarder….patrolling as usual. Guarded eyes flew along the swells of sand and rock, a bellowing cry escaping his throat to summon Cera from the Oasis or surrounding areas that might hold interest for younglings. Limbs carried his bulk forward, dashing lightened frame into heaven.

Fina followed behind, her small wings very immature and unable to keep up with a Pegasus’s flight. She grasped talons out to grip his flowing plume, latching on and then creeping up rear with a mixture of beak and claw. He barely felt the sting now; they had been together for nearly two weeks, and it helped that pelt was still heavy with winter down.

Each beat lead frame closer to the gathering taking place below. Absent thought of greeting others Midas searched warily for his son. Attention soon found their game. Landing sharply, with hindlegs striking first most into silt—tired daddy walked over to the familiar cherub, a warm beam flooding face and lightened voice saying, “Your face is dirty,” tenured tones whispered with humor. Head fell forward to rub muzzle across angled cheek.

Their moment only lasted for a few before attention was forced back to Kri. To which his smile was replaced with formal calm and skull dipped respectfully. Ears hadn’t been absent when all the mess of politics had went on, but he held a position that many kin folk already felt.

Family before self.

Kri and Leander had fought and found a disagreement too great to overthrow, and then suddenly a foothills leader took opportunity to advantage and forced Kri’s hand. Or hoof. Midas wouldn’t have to think on these grim matters for long, their mocha hued leader spoke of everything in detail. Surrendering her vulnerability to the herd and maintaining diplomatic foundations that most all believed in.

Throat tightened and begged for normally quiet words to speak up and out. He responded with simple words, just as her question died out, “You have fought for us,” one step forward toward her was taken, body spoke of pride and reserve, “Have been challenged and victorious, earning the right to become the head of a strong body.” Assertively the young general added, “I will follow you and this family wherever it may lead.”