I am beginning to feel like this stallion has little sense of humor. His formal actions and words lead me to believe that he will find me to be less than pleasant to deal with, but not because of the fiery temper that usually drove others away from me. With a devilish smirk hidden by the shadow of the tree I pass to stand in the company of these two strangers, I think to myself that this will be fun. I can tell my words have ruffled his feathers already, with the tense of his body as I call his way of speaking strange, though he attempts to hide the scoff with a short nicker. He has already given himself away. I stand, head held high and firm, asserting my authority before I had even spoken my title. Surely, for one of such scant height as myself, I would often be mistaken for nothing more than an aged brat, but it was not so. I had a problem of over-confidence, even in my youth, and time had done little to temper it. Still, I would hardly think my faith in myself was unfounded.

I had accomplished much in the years of my life, and as such, I deserved to hold my head up with the highest, most sincere form of confidence. I was certain I could succeed simply because I have before. I can best others because I am skilled. I am respectable. I am strong. However, I was also a tad mischevious. Plucking at the nerves of this formally spoken stallion was too much of a temptation to avoid simple for a regal face.

The mare is softspoken, but I had already noticed myself the steel hidden behind the gentle brush of her velvety tones. Her words of flattery towards me draw out a laugh, and I look at her with mirth in my dark eyes. "I am surprised you heard of greatness instead of my tempestuous behavior," I say, tones still playful and kind, warm like the desert sun in the morning. "Or perhaps you heard of my ire and wish to avoid it." I wink at her, equally as amiable, hoping that she does not take my words with an ill light. I did not think she was trying to flatter me, only being polite as it is necessary to do in unfamiliar company. This stallion, Galen, was a new face for me, as is the mare of honey. Despite the mystery of the two, I speak as though I have known them for years. Light and full of jest.

The stallion bows, all too predictably, before picking up the speech where he had left off. It was flowery, pleasant, but foreign to my ears. I have never been one to speech artfully but honestly. I do not waste breath on unnecessary decoration in terms of speech, unless you counted insults as unnecessary. I, however, believe that they are quite necessary to aptly describe many within this realm of Helovia. He calls me strange, and I smile. "Fair enough." He is not too far off target. I am not your run of the mill mare or Leader. Never one to speak with grace or polite stays of tongue to avoid trouble, I was no politician. Better suited for a general than a leader, but time has found me at the head of a herd more than once. It was a funny twist of fate.

Galen offers forth the name of the rest of my company, and I nod, looking at Romani and then down at the tiger. I would not attempt his name, for I fear the stallion might have slaughtered its pronunciation with the hesitance in his voice. He continues to speak, perhaps to fill the awkward silence that usually follows behind introductions. I watch his expression, rather stoic, despite describing the land as dark and foreign. A tough shell to crack, I think, but I imagine that he cannot maintain this thick wall up in his company forever. I wish to know the true thoughts rolling around in that skull of his, not the ones he presents in flowery words and graceful tones. Regardless, I suppose I should answer his question.

"I am headed home," I say simply, shrugging my wings to show the nonchalance of my travel. "Returning from a stint out of the Dragon's Throat." I pause for a moment, considering how I can maybe shake the nerves of this bay, rigid stallion, glancing sidelong at Romani with a smile in my eyes. I look back at Galen, toward his own dark eyes, my face flat and serious despite the warmer tone of my voice. "I decided I would check the Threshold to see if there were any lonely souls to be collected." I wrestle with my face, trying to keep my expression serious, though I am certain there might be a few cracks. Hopefully, the night will shade them and I will be able to see the hilarious expression of surprise and terror on this foreigner's face.

"The dragon gets hungry, you see, and has been restless of late. Lone travelers are the easiest to sacrifice because no one notices their disappearance."
""