A dragon flew above.

It was not Akaith, though the little gold companion was not far behind her bonded. It was the WeyrLeader of the World's Edge, draped in her draconic form, golden wings stretching for dozens of feet either side of her magnificent bodice. Though the body itself was no larger than the equine equivalent, the addition of wings, an elongated nape, and the thick, whip-like tail made for a very intimidating form. The dragon-mare had taken flight from her home, and flown south west, so that the Endless Blue, with its pale sands and deep, dark ocean stretching onto lands unknown. The salty air filled the leathery wings, giving her lift, allowing her to glide over almost the entire stretch of beach in only a handful of wingbeats.

A curious mental brush diverted her attention below, a speck of blue, and a white bodice. The fallen form of her old friend caused a mix of emotions to writhe about within her, memories from many seasons ago bubbling to the surface, that weariness from all that she had been through recently mingling with it all. A smoky snort was exhaled, as the dragon-mare tilted her path downwards, flaring her wings out as the sand seemed to accelerate in its approach to her. Strong, sturdy legs dug deep trenches as she landed, even her long tail lashed into the shore, as wingflaps stirred up loose nodules of the dried sand. She had landed a few lengths away from the mare's body, slitted eyes looking over her, nostrils testing the air and discerning that she was, indeed, alive.

Akaith took this moment to flutter down from the heights they had flown from, as Mirage bowed her head and called upon her equine form once more. She chortled to the little blue, Lazulli, whom she had known for many years, whilst also focussing upon her bonded, who often felt pain during the transformation. Seconds passed, and soon, the dark smudge of a mare stood besides Gossamer. A low whicker escaped her gullet, slightly breathless from both her flight and the transformation. Soft, plush muzzle reached out to the mare, warm breath blowing puffs of air over her, gentle curiosity willing the aged frame of the Benevolent to rise and live once again.

"Gossamer." It was the only word spoken, a greeting and a question all in one, a statement that asked for attention but also offered to give it. It was a promise made to an old friend, one that promised again and again that she would always find her, and stand by her.