The black hearted ravens continue to hold their blank stares, and their inky shadows still swallow the yellowing floor. One by one, their numbers become slower, but as they slow a ruckus stirs amongst them, and from what Daltoff can see with his one tiny eye, they are hanging in midair, shaking their down as a blanket. For a second he is nothing but amazed, and he hopes their following shadow will last to darken them from the horrible sun, but as their black feathers flutter down to the ground it is one by one that they disperse. It is as if nothing ever happened. The weakened trees still are able to hide their flying bodies and there is nothing left but feathers and cawing that rings in Daltoff's ears. He shakes his mane, and the tips of his mane latch on to small down. The raven's did offer kindness at least - the veiling from sunlight was enjoyable.

One he is sure they are truly gone, the bay warrior sighs and glances back at Mauja who seems to be gazing back with curious frosty eyes. Daltoff wished he could enjoy this more, but he remained untouched by those magical ravens. A gift wasn't sent for him like Mauja's blue tinted feathers. Or was it?

Suddenly a grin splits the bewildered silence, and the soldier hears nearly what he expects from his leader. He can only nod, still taken aback by those hauntingly fresh peering eyes that opened up his soul just a little. He wondered to himself about the mysterious ways of magic and how it reaped the world - both corrupting and creating. The old bay also agrees with the frosty stallion as he brings up the Moon Goddess. "I'd doubt she left any gift for me, Mauja," his voice neatly rolls, but as you'd think, he is a bit disappointed. "I respect her regardless." He also moves away from his tree as Mauja does so, only following up his movements out of respect. After all, he did own the World's Edge, he deserved the respect one would give a King. As their conversation continues and they step deeper into the territory he can't help but wonder what else lies within the realm of Helovia. It didn't seem partial to Isilme's warring ways.

Another question flows into the stallion's eardrums, and he can't think of another way to say it, rather than to simply put it out there. Like a weakness. "I greatly appreciate your offer, King, but I've recently escaped more horrifying creatures than you or anyone has ever seen. They saw with blade-sharp skins, and morph in the ways that the Sun tilts a shadow, and they did not slow to kill." He points with the sharp red side of his horn to a reddened scathe on his left shoulder. He also shudders a little at the feeling of revealing the happenings. "I need time to heal..." he stops and swallows. "Emotionally. But I will navigate the rest of the herd by night, while the moon's coolness can cure the sun's fever." He is a bit winded, and hoarse nearing the end of his lengthy response. The face of his dead eye only stares at Mauja, and the rest remains forward.