Arbutus and I have been taking our new duty quite seriously- it's shocking, really, how easy it is to be dedicated to something when you know lives are at stake. But I sense with every passing moment that the phoenix grows bored and tired of what is to him simply a tedious game. He is still young, and I'm still an inexperienced caretaker. I'm not exactly sure how to explain 'duty' to a playful and childish phoenix who only just knows his name.

But still, he seems to know something of the word, for accompanying his loyalty to me is the duty to keep me safe, and I'd be remiss not to mention it. At even the slightest hint of disturbance in the atmosphere, the phoenix bursts into flame and swoops towards the sound, saving me from countless invisible dangers; I feel slightly guilty about the several bugs he's roasted while protecting me from their vicious jaws. Still, it is nice to know that he is so fond of me. As much of a struggle as it's been to show any of myself lately, I'm doing my best to return the emotion- and it's funny, I find it's a bit easier with him. Perhaps because he speaks nothing ill of me, and has no intention of harming me. Ha, what a strange concept caring is to me!

But as I approach the great tree of the Dragon's Throat and scent blood on the air, I slowly begin to shed my usual coat of apathy. Arbutus stirs upon my back, and the hiss of his flames rise up as he suspects trouble. As often as he's been wrong, I'm a cautious sort, and not one to run the other way when the boy cries wolf. Better safe than sorry- or worse.

At a quick gallop, I head towards the tree and the source of the smell, letting Arbutus take the lead as he looks ahead with his keen eyes. He has caught the snake before I've even noticed its presence, and has begun to tear at it joyously. Wrestling with what is now its slowly burning corpse, he tumbles over, and the flames upon his back cause the tree's sap to hiss and boil. As new as I am to the area, I sense something off about the substance, and something off about the mare trying to drink it as well. With a concerned yellow gaze, I extend a flaming but not burning wing to the mare and let it fall across her withers.

"Miss?" I utter cautiously, hoping to get her attention as politely as I can. She seems fascinated with the bloody sap- perhaps the eternal Tallsun heat is wearing down on her at last. "Are you alright?" I ask again, puffing out my chest slightly as I attempt to take the soldier's, guard-like stance. No, I was not meant for this duty at all.

The instant adoration and admiration that I am faced with is shocking and uncomfortable. The mare's flesh touches mine as she pulls closer, and instinctively I pull away. My wings disappear in a flash, and my nervous tendencies return at no more than an affectionate touch. She speaks quickly and says much; so much that it's almost distressing. I long for Arbutus' comforting flame and attention, but his claws are occupied gripping and tearing the snake, and his focus is no longer on my emotions. I watch with slight distaste as he tears the snake apart, leaving a dark stain of blood on the ground where it last breathed.

With hesitance I turn back to the mare, ignoring the hissing sound of the blood boiling and evaporating off of Arbutus' plumage. "I'm... Tares," I choke out, cursing myself for losing what little confidence I'd slowly gained over the past week. "It's quite alright, Aure," I respond, speaking her name slowly and unsure of the pronunciation. "It was nothing, really," comes the muttered, bashful phrase.

My eyes flicker back to Arbutus, who has decided it's foolish to eat the inside of the snake when the scales are just as appetizing, and is swallowing what is left of the snake whole. I shudder- as caring as he is, It will take me quite some time to grow used to his diet. My tail flickers and falls to the earth, reminiscent of the snake's motions as it twists and curls against the dry, cracked dirt destroyed by Tallsun. With caution I glance towards the sap that had proved to be so threatening, even as slow moving as it was. I wonder if I really saved her life- what would have happened if she had just tasted it...

I shake my head quickly to free myself from the spell, and suddenly the sweet aroma reveals itself to be that of blood. My nostrils flare and my eyes widen- it is a scent I know too well, a taste I've had to swallow down too many times. Arbutus senses my fear and, understanding the pain of the memory, flies back to my side. His intentions are good, but the threatening call he makes as he passes Aure are surely not welcoming.

Come now, Arbutus I chide him; She means no harm. And I am surprised that I believe myself then, that by reassuring Arbutus I in turn make myself feel just a little bit better about the situation. My gaze travels shyly back to Aure's and I find myself trapped in her eyes. What a startling green... what a kind light to them.

"You must excuse him, he's rather protective." I murmur with good humor before changing the subject and shifting my stance to be slightly more firm. "So, Aure..." I begin, "what brings you to the Dragon's Throat?"

More talking. It makes me uncomfortable- I start to feel as if her chatter is incessant, and while it doesn't annoy me, I feel cramped and isolated. I'm not good at this- talking. I wish Arbutus could speak for me, for if I am to make friends in this herd, I certainly shan't do it the way I have been. My life has consisted of managing on my own and hiding from the truth- how am I to stay by this mare's side and help her find it?

But I am sympathetic for her- after all, she is a sad soul, and I can relate to that, if nothing else. My eyes trace the intricate vine marking across her nose, and I wonder if she recognizes even that. How awful she must find it to have no memory of her origins- how desperately I long for such a thing. What she construes as fear I would face happily. To remember nothing but my own name... how simple that would make things. No mourning, no loss, for there would be nothing to remember and miss.

She asks me, then, to give her a tour. What will I do or say? What even is a tour of this land? I am almost as new to it as she is. I had wandered aimlessly in my weak attempts to patrol, but had succeeded in little else. I freeze, my mouth slightly parted as I attempt to say something, anything, in reply. It is Arbutus' gentle touch as he lands across my withers that gives me the strength to say anything more. "I'm afraid I'm quite new to these lands, I'm not sure how much I know myself. And... I'm not sure if I should show you too much of the territory, unless you plan on joining," I add at the last second, remembering that as a soldier I am supposed to suspect and keep trespassers out. Still, I always do a poor job of being hostile. "If you want to, though... you know, I bet you could. Join, that is," I conclude nervously, nudged along word by word by Arbutus' warm, gracing feathers. My yellow gaze flickers to her eyes briefly before settling on the ground, and nervously I shake out my beard as I wrap my tail around my weak knees. I try to think of something more to say, perhaps ranks to offer, anything, but my mind goes blank and I suddenly lose any recollection of how I was welcomed into this herd. I let my gaze travel over her black hawk wings, and feel naked without any of my own. I want to tell her something about them- perhaps compliment her, but my timidity leaves us a pair in silence.

The silver dapple before me responds with a swift severity that makes it apparent how much more easygoing and confident she is than I. She tells me she would like to join and I question myself all at once; do I even have the right to accept her as I thought I had? Perhaps not- I am new to the herd, and a unicorn amidst pegasi. I feel ignorant and ill-informed, and I begin to regret approaching the mare at all. Someone else would have found her and led her to this part of the conversation, this very part where I am struggling to much to maintain a semblance of confidence.

But I know that any second later would have been too late. The snake had been ready to attack, the sap dripping like a poison. If Arbutus hadn't taken down the snake, if I hadn't caught her attention, she may have been lost. As hard as it is to accept that this is now my duty, that the lives of others rest beneath my wings, it is an inevitable realization. Suddenly I feel heavy and weak; my slender legs feel unsupported by the weak knees and hocks that carry them, and I long for the freedom of the sky beneath me.

Arbutus seems preoccupied as he reaches out towards the other mare and coos kindly. I extend my nose before him, pausing him before he gets too close, worried that his flames could hurt someone other than myself, but maintains his intention. He extends his wings upon my withers as I once did to her, and I am shocked by a sudden prick of my skin as he nibbles the edge of my nostril.

I offer him a heavy breath in return, but understand his suggestion. The feather entwined in my mane bursts into flame and my wings spark from my withers. They stretch over the new and strange mare as a comfort, but I still maintain my distance. It will be some time before I can become any less guarded.

"It's quite alright, Aure," I begin, worried for the self-depreciating mare. "I understand."

And even though I have said it I'm fully sure I do. But they were words of comfort, and for the first time I had spoken a half truth simply to make another feel better. It is exhilarating, and leaves me with a light an unfamiliar sensation of happiness within my breast. Still, I don't let it distract me entirely. "If you'd like to join, we have several ranks available to you," I remark cooly, running through them all in my head at once, and praying to the god of light that I am in the right by doing this. "The ranks of soldier, medic, crafter's apprentice, informant, are all options, as well as the uncategorized rank of citizen, should you wish to grow accustomed to the herd before finding your place in it," I say with authority, sounding at once as if I have recited a set of memorized instructions. Despite the warmth of my wings and Tallsun's bitterness, I feel the cold apathy creeping back. Upon my back Arbutus rubs my neck and mane, chittering as he picks various flecks of dust off of me. I remember his love for me and mine for his, and I do my best to maintain emotion.

I become aware of a strange tension between the two of us, and I fear that this friendship she seeks is something I am not yet ready or capable of handling. Arbutus, ever curious and intent on reaching the mare, clearly believes otherwise; but I'm in no position to act based on his emotion. Once more I turn and scold the young phoenix, harshly breathing in his face and ruffling the flames that burn along the crest of his head. I find it odd that he has chosen to remain on fire for so long, but cannot dispute his logic. If I had such an ability, I doubt I'd ever let down my cloak.

And then, just as I begin to feel uncomfortable with my wing upon her withers and wish to draw it away, she mirrors my action. The sensation is familiar from not too long ago, when Cassiopeia did the same thing, but I am still unused to such a physical form of comfort and affection. My gaze turns away both shyly and nervously, and I reply with a clear of my throat and a stuttered tone. "Soldier it is then, Aure. Welcome to the Dragon's Throat."

I wonder why she chooses this rank; why I did. I suppose we were both thinking the same thing when we signed up for it: it would be a job to protect, to save. I know for me I took the rank so no one would ever grow up like I have, so others could feel safety. Why I didn't leave it up to others better suited, why I had that sudden burst of sympathy and that great desire to change things with my own actions, I'm not sure. For some reason, however, I am left with my Father's name ringing in my ears.

She speaks of the sadness I seem to carry, and I wonder how I let it slip so easily. "I apologize for my reticence... I'm simply a reserved type," I comment with a backwards flick of my ears, embarrassed that my emotions were so clear without my knowledge. "The experiences in one's life shape them... which is why I understand your strong desire to remember your past. I simply haven't had many good ones. What you try to remember, I try to forget," I say with a sad gaze directed to my hooves, and a gentle and easy unfurling of my tail. "To me, there's no point on dwelling in the past when you can work instead to shape the future."

I am surprised at once by my sudden display of optimism. Arbutus spreads his wings and chirps brightly, letting the flames at last fall from his form as he hops over to greet Aure a bit more formally. I watch with contentment as he glides from my back to hers, and playfully begins to preen her wide, black wings. "He likes you," I add with a slight smile, feeling uncomfortable with the foreign expression. Still, I watch my charge as he hides beneath her black wings and pokes out his head joyously, making a game of it all by himself. It's hard not to smile at that.

The compliments rush from her so easily that I can only assume she was once used to hearing them herself. I wouldn't be surprised if such were the case; after all she is an attractive mare, and I can see the merit of her looks. My eyes keep travelling back to the marking of the vine that she carries on her nose- it's uniqueness draws my gaze to it consistently. As she lifts herself, I notice too for the first time her sole white hoof; I cannot help but compare it with my own cleft gray ones. So different in looks we are, in species just as much, and yet she remains kind. It's a comfort to be around so many that accept me regardless of my blood.

She asks for the opportunity to fly, and I lift myself gladly alongside her. The very thought of the idea makes me feel just a bit lighter- if there is anything in this land that is universal, that I love throughout, it is the sky. I spend each moment longing for the rush of the air beneath me and the whistle of the wind past my ears as it tosses my mane across my neck. "Gladly," I answered with confidence and a warm smile, able to set aside all of my reservations when the opportunity to lift my wings arises.

"His name is Arbutus, by the way," I comment with a nod to the phoenix, who is already taking flight at the sight of my wings stretching. He zips above us and sets himself on fire in a beautiful display, and I long to join him. My wings fall heavily to my side and then lift, and despite the slight trot I must maintain to lift off, my weak legs ache in protest. Yet I do not hesitate in leaving the mare's side and spreading my wings to catch the air. Perhaps I am too eager to greet the sky; after all, I should have said something to her.

At last I feel nothing beneath my hooves, and my tail flies out straight behind me as I catch my balance. My beard flies up and obstructs my vision while my mane flies out of the way. With a sturdy downbeat I shoot upwards and bank right, turning to look back down to her. Arbutus calls his glorious cry, that of so many other birds combined, and I beckon her to join me with a flick of my tail. "I'll show you the way," I call down comfortingly, feeling so much freer with the sky surrounding me. My steady yellow glaze breaks away for a moment and I climb higher with strong wings of fire, whinnying along to Arbutus' joyous call.

She lifts herself up beside me and shows herself off in a way that seems innocent and not at all obnoxious. I wonder how she does it- I feel myself pardoning her every mistake. Arbutus whizzes in front of me, the tips of his fiery wings brushing my nose, and lets out a catcall, which I instantly speed up to catch and scold him for. Still, I should trust the bird. He's never failed so far, and I feel a bond with him that compels me to believe his every piece of advice. If he thinks I should become better friends with Aure, who he now has sidled up alongside in the air, then who am I to disagree? I know I don't control him, but I do value his opinion.

He's a dangerous thing to have around. I can see that now, as my guard falls and my apathy fades into wells of emotion. Aure darts around me in the air, proving herself to be skilled in the art of flight, and I maintain a steady path, unsure where to bring her. She had previously asked for a tour of the Throat, but what should I show her? The lake passes beneath us and the two of us are reflected like tony spots in the water. There's a hiss as she darts through a cloud with Arbutus in tow, and he emerges from it steaming and extinguished, but still flying with more confidence than I.

Strange how even in the air that I love so much I manage to be timid. I look down at the lake again and enjoy the distance between us, and then with my bright eyes I turn back to Aure, whose coat is dripping with condensation.

"Below us is-" I begin, only to find myself cut off by an eager announcement from the silver dapple and a gust of wind that carries away my volume. She sets off with a burst, leaving my ears ringing with her words and yet my wings still beating at a leisurely pace. Arbutus turns back to look at me and calls with frustration, clearly under the impression that I'm thick.

I set off at a late start, heading downwards rapidly towards the lake to gain momentum before swooping up and doing my best to avoid the clouds. I see her only as a blurred black shape above me, and with a bit of a smile I find myself climbing higher to reach her. As Arbutus flies in circles around me, I wonder if the sensation I am experiencing is happiness- if the moment I am taking part in with her is fun. "Wait up!" I whinny, hoping my words travel up to reach her ears. As much as I've loved my wings, I've yet to master the aerodynamics of fire; it seems a contradiction in itself. Arbutus leads me forward, reminding me ever still of the phoenix who guided me as a filly and kept me hopeful even in the darkest of times. But still, even with the gods flying beside and within me, I feel lonely when I lose sight of the dark figure of Aure.

She flies down and almost right past me, and I whinny pleasantly as I see her sopping form emerge from a cloud. It seems she doesn't mind getting a little wet- I wish I could say the same of myself and my fiery appendages, but I've spent little time in the water. It's strange how I could be raised in Ultima and the Tides herd and still feel uncomfortable in the swaying waves of the oceans and lakes of this land. Then again, perhaps that was why.

Then again, perhaps it was time to change that. "The great lake is below us, if you'd care to land for a moment and-" then I pause suddenly, watching as her gaze changes to one that is wistful. She seems entranced by a passing bird, and her wings seem to stop mid air, leaving her falling quickly. She recovers, but still I have reflexively swooped down to catch her, and Arbutus is flying restlessly in circles above us, crying out with clear distress. I not only trust his instincts, but my own; it is clear that something has very suddenly drawn her attention to darker times.

Slowly I lower myself to hover beneath and beside her, and let one of my wings pass over her legs comfortingly. "Let's take a rest down at the lake, shall we?" I murmur softly and comfortingly, feeling strange, appropriate mother instincts kicking in. Strange that I know how to act so kindly after being subject to such abuse by my own mother. I suppose, knowing that what she did was wrong, I can simply do the opposite and always be in the right.

I trace my horn lightly across her ergot, and lift my tail so that it wraps with ease around one of her fore-knees. Gently I lower myself, moving slowly, guiding her as my wings let air rush through their fiery feathers in small amounts at a time. With growing concern I look up at her- perhaps she has just remembered something from the past she has forgotten. Judging by the look on her face it couldn't be a happy memory.

I begin to wonder if she blocked it out on purpose, if perhaps it was simply too traumatic for her to relive each morning when she awoke. Then again, I wonder why I can't do the same. Arbutus wheels around the pair of us, trilling nervously and picking at Aure's mane and nudging her downwards with his flame hidden so as not to harm her. I smile at his display of kindness- he is a good companion. A loyal one; a friend. Perhaps Aure is as well.

Tallsun's light reflects off of the water and blinds me, forcing me to look away from Aure. The heat here in the lake seems stifling- out from under the shade of the great tree and away from the sky's kind breezes, we are left at the mercy of the elements. Tentatively I lift a hoof and place it in the lukewarm water, unsure as to whether or not I like the sensation. My wings fold as their heat becomes unbearable, and Arbutus lands with frustration on the shore, clearly averse to entering the waves. My tail unwraps itself from Aure and floats on the water's surface, first dragging in the cracked and dry dust that makes up the shore now that Tallsun has cursed the land. I turn back to look at Aure, squinting in the sunlight, but still she is a blur to me. With a huff and a twist of my head I beckon her closer, hoping she will join me in the water.

I will not tell her that it is because I am scared. Especially when she seems so upset by the memory of her past, whatever it had been. I look down into the unbroken water sadly, noting my own reflection and thinking about how many had called me a monster for it. The markings on my shoulders contrast with my short horn; marks from two different species. I was once an abomination. Aure... who knew what she was. I doubt she was ever anything so truly horrible, however; I can't see the sweet and gentle mare as anything other than what she is now.

As she begins to speak, my ears swivel behind me and I listen intently, surprised at how receptive I've become in such a short span of time. It's interesting, really, to see what difference knowing one is your friend can make. I don't entirely trust her yet, certainly not in the way she does, certainly not enough to tell her what haunts me each night, but I feel more comfortable. Comfortable enough to smile, unlock my pained knees, and relax. I let out a sympathetic, soft whinny when she finishes speaking, but no little else of what to say or do.

"I'm sorry, Aure. This must be hard for you," I comment fairly generically, feeling awkward and out of place again. It's strange what difference being on the ground can make. "I would say... don't let it get to you. Time has passed, surely they have moved on. He is likely grown now- while you may find him someday, it's likely that while your lives will be separate from each other's, they will both be fulfilled."

At the edge of the water Arbutus chirped in approval, and I shot him a glare, only to be turned back by the sun. I could have sworn he was laughing at me.