The act of leaving the Throat still laid heavy on his shoulders, but the tawny stallion still pressed on. He had walked, not run, from the hot sands of the desert, his stance steady and self assured. No matter how many Gods, Generals, or Sultanas, spit at him, he would not run. His mind was clear, maybe clearer than it had ever been, despite the grief that came with leaving one's home. It was as if someone had splashed cold water across his face and yelled wake up! The God of the Sun had said, "Not until you rise like a warrior and claim what is yours will you be recognized". The phrase was something he'd taken to heart, rather than the rest of the deity's outburst. He could have little respect for the Sun God now, for he was clearly plagued with mortal anger. Still, the God's threat of a curse would set anyone uneasy, but if he really wanted them to suffer, why not kill them then? Was a God's power not strong enough to just render all who angered him writhing in pain?

The golden had reached the most far Northern part of the meadow, a great deal away from the Throat and all its bitterness. Ember had been flying a short distance above him the entire time, watching him with concerned eyes. They still could not share language, but the eagle had seen her bonded be confronted by many angry pegasi, and it was not hard to tell that things were wrong. Descending with ease from the air, she landed upon his aureate hide, black clawed feet careful on his skin. She cooed softly, as a mother bird might to its chick, and began to preen strands of flaxen mane. A sigh fell from his maw, and the LionHeart turned back to look for his friends. He had not left the Throat alone, and the knowledge was both warming and sorrowful. With a somber expression, he began. "Friends." Deep chords paused, pain falling gently across his features. "The Sun God claims to have put a curse upon us, but I have not seen it manifest yet. I will protect you in any way that I can from his wrath." He spoke, truth and determination clear in his words. "However, if you fear the Sun God's curse, I would not blame you for leaving me now. If you have the heart and mind to stay and continue a new path with me, we have much to discuss."

Svetlana. The StormChaser was the first to appear, her sleek ebon wings standing out against the pale blue of the sky and soft greens of the meadow. A weary smile grew on his lips at the sight of her, but it was one that would be quick to fade. She was not content, and the fire in her pitch eyes was enough of an explanation. For a moment, a shred of worry found his heart. He had not seen Svetlana angry before - could she hold the same blind temper that Kri had possessed? Or did she know how to deal with and use her rage like a true leader?

"Svetlana." He greeted softly, dipping his head in a friendly, respectful gesture. Even if she was upset, she had great cause to be so. Surely her emotions would be running haywire, after being taken prisoner in the North through Frostfall, and returning only to lose her place as Chieftess to one no more than a colt. It was enough to drive anyone mad. Her quick words of plans and actions rang through his ears, and he remained with quiet ease until the Basin was uttered from her mouth. Sooty auds swiveled to face backwards slightly, giving off a look of concern rather than anger. My honor is in tatters she says, and golden pools well with sorrow. "I am sorry for everything you have been through. Know that I will be here for you, no matter what we decide to do." He said softly, before reaching out his muzzle to brush her shoulder comfortingly. There was little he could do to help ease her trouble mind, but at least the knowledge of his friendship might be a comfort to her. "I do not think we are at odds with any of the herds, aside from the Throat. Their dislike for us is unwarranted and headed by Kri; We all left peacefully and caused no harm. I do not think that there will be much we can do to repair relations with them while Kri is in power. But you have a very good point - speaking to the herds and developing friendly relationships with them would be wise." He spoke calmly, agreeing with her desire to be on good terms with the main herds. If there was some reason for them to be disliked by any besides the Throat, he trusted that the silver would explain. "I do not believe it would be wise to join the Basin, especially since they kept you as their prisoner. I fought against their group in the Battle of the Edge, and I personally have no desire to join their ranks." Deep chords were still neutral, though they held a colder edge than before. He could not understand what would possess Svetlana to want to go back to that God forsaken group. Not when they had held her against her will. The golden remembered the look on her face when he'd tried to rescue her, so defeated, devoid. It was sickening.

"I would like to speak with Aitheria and Lynx as well, about moving forward. We must all come to a decision, together, equally." He glanced long across the field as he spoke, bronze orbs sweeping the greenery for sight of the two, before letting his sights fall back to Svetlana. "The safety of a herd is an asset that we do not have, but there is always the option of remaining in the wilds and growing our strength. Our numbers may grow, and we may be able to discover our own land to call home."