It was dawn, a new dawn in a new land. That the sun continually rose had never failed to amaze me. Once, when I was younger, I had tried to chase the sun across the sky, to find where it went when night draped herself across the land. I came to water before I could reach it; however, I had since learned of places where the sun does not set, just as in my home it did not rise. Here, though, the sun seemed to follow natural patterns, and a new sunrise found me in the Threshold, where Mirage told me newcomers ventured on their way into this land. Although I skipped this step of initiation into Helovia entirely, Madyrn and Maskan had come through here on their way to find us, and informed me quite the entourage met them upon their arrival. So it was largely curiosity that brought me here today, rather than any dutiful need to fill the ranks of a herd. My sister's band of misfits aside, I had no real alliances in this land.

The scent of stallion was prevalent in the morning air; and while I had already been exposed to more testosterone than I usually care to endure over the past few turns, curiosity inevitably won out. My lithe form wove through the pines in search of the beast from whom the aroma originated, mane and tail shimmering like starlight in the crisp morning air. A sharp turn, a creek crossed; a few more paces and I would meet my quarry. His musky scent was strong now, and from what I could tell moving sort of parallel towards me. I picked up my speed, hoping to cut him off, hooves padding softly in the underbrush. It was not more than a minute before I could hear him, and seconds later, I saw him, a young black stallion with a blanket pattern. Interesting.

"You are new here." My alto voice resounded through the woods, and I watched him with dark eyes. There was no introduction, no questions. "Why have you come? What do you run from?" Not, perhaps, the best greeting, but I have never been good with social workings. Besides, I meant no harm. Curiosity had not yet killed this cat.

As the sun rose, so did the gold and ivory painted dove. She shook herself gently, hazel eyes looking over to her sleeping son mere yards away. He was growing fast, and looking more and more like his father. She couldn't help but smile. It was with that smile on her muzzle that she quietly moved off, heading for the Threshold. Solstice had decided that if Ata did arrive.. She would need to patrol the main entryway into Helovia. After all, it seemed to be the way that all Isilme residents had arrived... or well fled into. With a snort she shook the thought from her head. Isilme was no more, home to only the shades of the dead. Perhaps other residents made it out, and would find their way here. She would need to find them, and if they so decided show them the way back to the Foothills.

As she entered the Threshold, two unfamiler scents hit her nostils. She moved forward at an easy canter, only slowing down once they came into view. Ears pricked forward as the one spoke. Solstice waited and then spoke calmly Welcome, to Helovia. I am Solstice, Warrior of the Windtossed Foothills herd. She did not ask questions as the one who arrived before her had already stated the obvious and asked to without introducing herself. So instead Sols would wait...

It was with a feeling of amusement that the grulla mare stepped from amongst the trees. She'd seen the gathering horses through the trunks, and had approached out of curiousity. The presence of Solstice there had made up her mind over whether or not to greet the young stallion and older mare. Especially the stallion's reaction to the fact that the painted mare was a warrior.

With a warm chuckle she allowed her battle battered form to become exposed to the growing light and heat of the rising sun. "Indeed, Solstice is one of my warriors, and is a daughter of warriors." Dark eyes fell on the tall and lean figure of the young black stallion, assessing and calm. A proud one, he was. Reminded her of Ricochet, which brought mixed feelings.

Her gaze then shifted to the black mare, and her white-edged ears flicked forward with interest. While this mare was marked with white, there was a particular air to her that reminded Smoke of another mare. "You must be kin of Mirage." A smile flickered across her features then, sure of the assessment.

It was about then that the other half of her soul caught up with her, his morning hunt complete. Wingbeats too heavy to be a morning songbird, but too light to be a pegasus, approached through the trees. With a melodic trill the dragon swept between two low hanging branches to circle once around the clearing. His body was brilliant in midnight and pale sky hues, wings flashing sapphire bright when the sunlight shone through them. Chirruping happily he alighted upon the broad haunches of the grulla mare whose bond he shared, folding closed his wings before peering about inquisitively with jade green eyes.

He was an angry young thing, this pompous stallion, and I looked at him skeptically as he snapped at me. Years on earth had taught me that there was little time for unwarranted anger, and I could only watch ruefully as this stallion glared his angry eyes and swished his angry tail and was all around bratty. It was irritating, but I did not lash back. Years of training had helped me control my temper. The frustration only showed itself in the slight twitch of my left shoulder.

I let an ear drop back as he spoke again, eyes narrowing slightly. "Everybody runs from something. But no matter." He pulled up to rise above me, and I let him have that victory, keeping my crown slightly lowered. Dark eyes continued to watch the stallion from behind frosty forelock. He demanded a name, and for a moment I was tempted to hold it as my own secret. Then I laughed at myself, and dipped my head to him. "I am Rishima, of no herd. What is your name?" I did not have a chance to say more, however, before the arrival of another brought a welcome distraction.

The new mare did not seem to notice me, so enraptured in the act of seducing a newcomer was she, which gave me a chance to observe them both. The newcomer introduced herself as one Solstice of the Windtossed Foothills - a friend of my brothers, perchance. She was pretty, a mottled gold and white that reminded me of Mirage's Torasin. So many associations, in such a small place. I enjoyed the spider's web of connections my mind was forming.

Solstice was a warrior, she announced, a profession I could admire. But the stallion seemed incredulous, shocked at the revelation. Luckily for me, I did not need to put the stallion in his place - yet another mare arrived, claiming possession of the painted Solstice. She was calm in the face of the black stud, something I could admire, and I dipped my head to her in respect. Her assessment of kinship with Mirage pleased me, and I let my guard drop enough to smile at her. "Yes," I agreed, voice low and resonant. "But I do not know you...?" My attention was taken a moment later, however, when the beating of wings heralded a lovely blue dragon's arrival. The creature landed on the back of the Grulla mare, chirping happily to its bonded. "Beautiful," I whispered - although he did not begin to compare with the majesty of my sister's Aikath.

“Shame you’ll never get to find out.”

The deep, gravelly voice belonged to the stallion Madyrn, and he stepped out from the darkness of the surrounding forest, his crimson forelegs carrying his broad chested frame with a hidden grace. The brother of this steed, emerged similarly from the opposite end of the gathering, rubbing himself alongside his painted sister as he did so, a grin upon his blazed façade.

“You wouldn’t be speaking ill of that which you know nothing about, would you?”

Maskan’s articulate voice echoed through the group now, questioning the stallion. Piercingly orange eyes delved into his own, coming at him from both stallions. They nodded to the mares present, being familiar with all of them; their sister, Rishima of course, Smoke, the militant leader of their herd, and Solstice, a fellow warrior it would seem. They recognised her face from the meeting, at least, and gave her more credence than the idiot standing before them.

“Poor little Atlas,” Madyrn spoke again, “I wonder if he would even be able to find the Foothills on his own.” The rough voice mused, a deep chuckle dripping out after the words, shared by his brother. The newcomer needed to be put in his place, and while the stallions were certain that the mares were capable of it themselves, they simply couldn’t resist giving the brute a taste of his own medicine.

“I fear our lady friends might have other plans in store for him, brother of mine.” Maskan spoke with dry amusement, eyes still probing the spotted steed. “But perhaps if he wanted to reassess the way he was treating our friends, we could help him.” Though the words were obviously spoken in jest as a conversation with his brother, they were giving the steed a chance to restart what he had stirred up.

The brother’s methods were unorthodox for sure. They were trying to cool the fire down by adding more fire to it – would their method work or would simple, delightful pandemonium ensue?

It pleased Smoke to know her assessment was correct about this black mare, and she inclined her head respectfully in return with a warmer smile. "My name is Smoke the Wild Rose, Miltary Chieftess of the Foothills." This was spoken just loud enough to let the young stud hear as well.

But he seemed more preoccupied by the arrival of her dragon, and it was all the mare could do not to laugh at his surprised shout in comparison to the recognition and admiration that the sight of a dragon usual garnered. Alarm was something she'd expect on the field of battle, not in such a casual setting. "I take it you've never seen a dragon then?" She couldn't hide the humour that danced in her eyes. "His name is Zaffre, and he and I share a soul bond that only death can sever." The introduction was accented by Zaffre blowing out a brief streamer of flame, carefully aimed to not singe anyone or anything nearby, and trilling softly.

At last the youngster gave his name. Atlas. When he did inquire about the Foothills, it was with impudence. "You have worse manners than our own foals." She observed drily, but was not given the opportunity to say more when two massive stallions stepped from the tree cover with words that were almost a threat. Dark gaze glanced to them, recognizing their appearance even when their voices were unfamiliar. It was amusing for her to see just how many of her own herd had gathered here to deal with this young upstart, and all of them warriors.

Black tail swished against battle scarred gray haunches, just short of lashing against the hide of the blue who was quite comfortably crouched on top of them. "Would you like to try asking again?" She inquired calmly, politely. "It is wisest to speak at least in polite tones to those who have talents you know nothing of." There was a whisper of promise to her tone, a dare for him to find out just what she was hinting at. Never mind that he knew Zaffre could fly and breathe fire, or that she and her warriors could fight just from their ranks. There were other things.

The more time I spent in his presence, the more I had to wonder if the stallion has a death wish. I watched him insult everybody who approached him, in turn, a bratty young thing who would quickly find out that isolating potential friends was not the best plan for life, in the long term. Although I must confess, his reaction to Smoke's Zaffre was simply spectacular. While the little blue was nowhere near as intimidating as my sister's bonded, he was certainly impressive. A burst of fire from a flying lizard is enough to take anyone unsuspecting by surprise, and I wondered how the brat would respond to this added bit of intimidation. I shook my head at the burst of flame; while the fire did not touch me, Zaffre was sitting close enough for the heat to roll across my neck, a slightly overpowering warmth for someone who preferred cool nights. Dark eyes glittered as I watched the stallion for his reaction.

Finally, the creature gave a name. Atlas, he said - and I cannot help but wonder if it's appropriate, or ironic. The Atlas of legend, I had learned on my travels, carried the weight of the earth on his back; this creature only seemed to carry the weight of his own superiority complex. I had not heard him sound pleased at all, until he told us his name, as though the thought of himself was the greatest music to his ears. Narcissus would be more appropriate. I snorted softly in agreement with Smoke's assessment of his manners. Surely this stallion will save himself from the precipice he stood upon, before his words sent him tumbling down? But ah, it was too late. A thick, familiar scent permeated the clearing, heralding the voices that rang out mere seconds later. Upon my velveteen maw, a cold smile broke. My brothers had arrived.

I nodded a greeting to the terrible pair, pleasure visible in my eyes. Sure, we mares could have handled this little mongrel on our own, but it was nice to see the boys in their element. And while usually I would have been frustrated by their unorthodox methods of persuasion, they were welcome here. The stallion was surrounded, now - surrounded by four warriors and myself, and I could fight with hooves as well as words. Smoke spoke up from beside me, a dare in her calm voice, a dragon in her haunches. The painted mare, Solstice, was clearly angry at Atlas's behavior. And my brothers could crush the young beast like a fly.

It was my turn.

I drew myself up to my full height as I approached the stallion, and while there was not a great difference between his size and my own, I knew better how to hold myself. There was confidence in every line of my body, confidence and majesty, and more than anything, authority. With over a decade of life under my belt, I had seen more than this little stallion could imagine, had endured more, and it showed in my black eyes. I was less than a pace away from him when I stopped, and a cold, emotionless murmur escaped my lips. "Atlas," I intoned, voice deep and low but loud enough to be heard by my companions, "You are not in your home anymore. You are in our land, and you have not proven yourself to be a good guest. You have amused my brothers, and believe me, you do not want to be their plaything. And before you assert your strength, think. Look around. You are outnumbered." I stepped closer now, bringing my ebony face closer to his own. "If you do not behave on your own, we will make you."

Throughout the interaction, I kept myself calm, my emotions hidden. It would take more than this child to phase me, but hopefully he would heed my warning and quell his tone. I stepped back, defined muscles rippling under my dark coat, until I stood once more beside the grulla Smoke. "There are three herds here, Atlas, but perhaps you would do well to try living in the wilds of Helovia for a time." My comment is aimed at Smoke and Solstice as well as the stallion, a suggestion for the younger mares. Ultimately, if they still extended an invitation for Atlas to inhabit their home it was upon their heads, but I personally felt the brat would benefit from having to fend for himself for a time. Let him appreciate good company, before he was gifted it.