Sadness had a way of permeating the air, of thickening the atmosphere, of fogging up the once clear, true path one might have laid out before themselves. The WeyrLeader did the best she could for her herd, but still, she found that she could never see everyone as often as she would have liked - especially since she had become a mother to two wonderful, beautiful, glorious girls. They were in the care of their father now, no doubt learning the ways of stealth, of patrolling, or perhaps of hunting and foraging, or even of self-defence. Mirage loved her girls, but it was a relief, she guiltily admitted, to walk away from the Edge, to head south, to walk the thin path that led to the Blue, and to be alone - save for Akaith's company. The little dragon was completely besotted with the twins, of course, and equally reluctant to leave them - but once the sand was beneath them, the ocean beside them, the skies clear and broad above them, she allowed the happiness of the occasion fill her wings with speed and acrobatic performances.

Gossamer was not the same. This much was obvious from the mare's quiet presence in the Edge. Mirage had tried to give her something to do, welcoming her home, knowing that she could never provide the mare with what she had had before - a herd to lead, a mate, a biological family. The little shadow mare could only provide herself, a friend and confidant, and the family she had brought together in the World's Edge, to share with Gossamer. But had she really been a friend? She had welcomed Gossamer, yes, but she had also welcomed dark shadows from Gossamer's past - the very stallion that had taken her herd from her, the very steed that had begun the ruin of the Foothills by handing the leadership away to creatures too inept to carry the responsibility. Had she truly been a friend, at all?

It was a question the mare didn't want to honestly answer, and yet she found herself confronted with it as the scent of the pale mare crossed her path. Akaith moved swiftly, following it, sensing in her curious draconic way, the tension being emitted by Lazulli, the little blue who was almost as old and wise as she. The queen might never consider him a mate, but he certainly was a friend to her. Spying his form upon the prone bodice of Gossamer from the heights above, she delivered the scene to her bonded's cranium, and both queens moved across the sands with haste. Mirage's crown was held low, her muzzle sweeping the sands as she rounded the pallid mare's forequarters, the soft, dark maw reaching out to brush against the other mare without hesitation, a firm, reassuring contact that spoke louder than any words she uttered ever could. We are here, her motions said, as she positioned herself beside the mare, and slung her crown over Gossamer's withers. We are sorry, but we are here, and we always will be, the little queen did similar, landing upon the lands beside them, leaning her forepaws upon the side of the pale mare to inspect Lazulli, chirruping hopefully, nudging him to ensure she had his attention.

"You have our love, Gossamer." She spoke the words this time, the tones deep and honest, a whisper upon the salty breeze.