Unintentionally, we seem to have switched moods. Where she is calm and high spirited, I have brought myself down to a lower, deeper level of sadness. So much for telling her not to dwell on the past; sinners shouldn't preach.

I despise the thought that I am a hypocrite, but as she, rather shockingly and powerfully, compliments me, I become further aware of it. I find nothing particularly wrong with my looks, but so many had, once. I was practically an unclassified being, with a short excuse for a horn that seemed to bring me disgrace where I walked. Despite cleft hooves and a brilliantly whip like tail, I was known for my wings. And worst of all, I was known for my father. I think of him now as a hero, but then... what was he to me then but a figure in the distance? At night I would pray for him to come and rescue me from the living hell that I experienced under my mother's lashes, but each morning I would awaken alone once more.

I fade back to the present and notice a tone of regret in her voice. She apologizes; for what? I wonder. My reply is swift but slightly cold, cloaked in my usual apathy. I had left myself vulnerable, and suddenly felt myself closing up again. "It's fine," I answer, directing my gaze back down to the warm water and trying to find my hooves through it.

She speaks of clouds and swimming, but I've experienced neither. "I can't say I'm much of a swimmer," I comment softly, letting my tail swirl in the water and my aching hocks rest in the soothing water while the rest of my form remains on edge. Arbutus has taken flight and now wheels above us in circles, following the path of the vulture, but with the intention of keeping a watchful eye on me. Strange how he can sense such a sudden regression in me, even from afar.

As soon as she leaves the water, with an attempted hidden air of dejection and self depreciation, I feel guilt knock me square in the face. Arbutus ends his path and swoops down to brush against me with disappointment, before landing by the other mare. I realize that I've done wrong, that closing up to a mare as kind and gentle as this can in no way be beneficial. There is a heavy sense of shame that I carry, knowing that I have effectively swept the joy from her bright, green eyes.

"I like your marking," I call out quietly and seemingly out of nowhere. I hadn't responded to her previous comment, but was it ever too late to offer a compliment? In my short time with Aure I'd learned that. On the shore, Arbutus perked up and looked at me approvingly, urging me to go forward. "I apologize, Aure," I began, slowly carrying my body through the water and back out to the shore where Aure stood. Droplets from her mane hit me square in the face, and I swallowed the reflex to rear and shy away. It was just a splash of water- surely I wasn't to be that skittish.

My own tail drags along on the ground, looking odd with the hair wet and clinging to itself. I make no attempts to dry myself, I simply stand beside her and gently nudge her withers with my nose. "Ever since I was a filly I've been rather... reserved. I did not mean to scare you away," I explain apologetically, my yellow gaze trying to express the worry I feel. I had not intended to hurt her feelings in such a way.

The feather in my mane snaps into flame, and I lower my wings to stretch over my legs, letting them dry off in the wake of the heat. And oh, the heat- how dreadful it is under the hot Tallsun noon, with the sky too bright to admire and the sun to harsh to pray to. I wonde if the heat and the wildfires were signals from the gods of fire and light. I wondered why they would do such a thing. My thin black coat twitches with discomfort, my tail whips up as if to scare off a fly. I feel uncomfortable in the land... I wonder if Aure feels it too. "Perhaps we should find an escape from the heat," I suggest with an extension of my neck that causes my nose to stroke the base of hers, and my breath to trace the path. "The oasis surrounding Dragon's Blood should provide us some shade at the very least."

The walk to the oasis is long and silent, but upon our arrival I feel the shade as a gentle release. Dark creatures such as us surely suffer most in the heat- I only wish there was some sort of magic that could stave it off. Arbutus trails behind reluctantly, clearly happier out in the open skies, basking in the very light that he is made of. I envy him somewhat for his hardiness and constant source of energy, but I suppose if I had those things I'd be a very different mare than I am now.

I reply at first only with a nod of my head and a gentle smile when we arrive beneath the shade of the trees and she compliments my markings. It's rare that I receive such remarks, and I'm easily flattered. Not easily fooled, however. Not impressionable, no... I am strong. Strong, at the very least, in my separated weakness. But I don't feel that forced alienation around Aure, perhaps because she is simply so accepting of all creeds. At least that is how it seems- then again, I am in a way the first mare she has ever met. She asks about the bitter sun, and I whinny lightly as if laughing. "I don't, only followers of the God of the Sun can stand it. He has stretched Tallsun for many seasons now, leaving us exhausted and at his mercy," came the sad but true response. As much as I loved his charges, I would never worship a god as cruel and self involved as the God of the Sun. I had heard of him after coming here, and as faint as their presences seemed to be in this same land, I had maintained my worship for the Fox of Light and the Phoenix of Fire. Finding Arbutus... well, it was a blessing and a sign from the spiritual mother.

She touches her leg to mine, and though the first instinct is to balk, I stand stiff and receive, and understand, the gesture. I fold my legs and let my body slowly drop as she dazes off, and I wonder if she is remembering things again. My tail, at last dry, but turned a lighter gray by its covering of dust, curls around my gaskin and lays to rest across my thigh. My horn, barely poking through my thin and long mane, seems a light gray in the shadow. My gaze slowly travels back to Aure, who seems disheartened by this latest memory. Arbutus, perched above, seemed concern, and begins to coo almost mournfully. "What's wrong?" I inquire, my head cocked slightly and my eyes holding an expression of deep concern for the troubled mare.

Aure suddenly seems to care less about the plight of the herds versus the God of the Sun, and suddenly she focuses on more personal matters. As a rule I shy away from them, but given her condition and her tendency to be irresistibly kind, I can't make myself shut her out again. She speaks with optimism, feeding back to me what I had said but not understood before. What I said practically she said with emotion- while I had given callous advice, she makes me feel with her words.

And though I won't go as far as to call it all wisdom, I fail to see the harm in trying her way of thinking. I worry, though, that she won't be able to do it herself. Then again, can anyone? Not according to Aure- she says that we'll need company to cope. That loneliness, alienation, everything I've been purposefully subjecting myself to all my life, will do nothing to aid me. I suffer with the burden of the realization that I've been carrying myself incorrectly for years- that the downwards slope of my back and the hunch in my shoulders only served to bring me more pain.

More pain that that which had already rested in my gaze has been building up until now, when I learn how wrong I have been. My cloven hooves dig into the earth and it flies up in a dry, powdery dust, having been subject to Tallsun's heat even despite the shade. Not the shade is really enough, I can still feel the rays beating down on me as if it were noontime in the desert. I can still feel the mistakes and the emotion that accompanies them seeping through the canopy and finding their way down to me.

Arbutus senses my distress, and flies to my side in an instant. He resumes his post upon my withers, and picks at the base of my neck both affectionately and encouragingly. I cannot look at Aure, I feel too weak and lost to fathom continuing our conversation. The day has been long, the sun has left me weary. And so I rise, shoving aside the pain in my legs at first, and then realizing that I can't just do that any more. Realizing that I have to accept the worst of things, as painful as it may be. "I- I need to think," I burst out softly, keeping my head low and my gaze away from Aure's sparkling green one. The feather snaps again, making a noise like a spark or a whip, and my wings stretch upwards towards the sky. Sensing that we're to part, Arbutus turns forlornly to Aure and emits a soft, comforting coo. I let out a huff of air, practically choking on the dry heat of my next inhalation, and toss a soft goodbye to Aure as I lift off, and, suddenly, awkwardly, and alone, hit the air as I have been doing for years.