The warm embrace of dawn was upon us.

The rising of the Sun always brought curious emotions with them. It was just after the great fiery orb had risen that we had moved from the comforts of our sleeping space in the Oasis, taken the usual route along the curious wave of the Throat, and found the deceased carcass of our fallen father. My little cloud has not slept past the awakening of the rising sun since that day, and neither have I. I am, natively, a creature of darkness and nightmares, so the early mornings, or late nights, as it were, did not disturb my patterns of rest and activity. But I felt the shift in routines wear down upon my little cloud, I saw them make their mark upon her body - she was maturing, growing up, altering her way of life in order to cope with the past that haunted her so.

As the day matured past its beginning and slowly entered its morning, we are seen to be walking, myself with my thick, wiry hide shining sleekly beneath the sun, my beloved, with clouds spattered across her otherwise sky blue pelt. I am glad to see that the weather only rarely changes with her mood now, she seems more conscious of the effect her emotions have on it - the dreary, misty, rainy, cold, horrible weather that plagued us for months after the fall of Azzuen had finally cleared up, though the internal scars, that only I was capable of seeing, would forever remain, his memory would never be lost so long as we lived. The sands below did not stir much as we walked, the winds were quiet today, making it easier to breathe, as less dust was lifted with each step.

The outline of a grey mare soon became apparent as we continued our march, the clear weather allowing easy visibility across our deserted home. We no longer slept at the Oasis where we used to, but rather, found comfort at another corner of the Throat that we shared only with each other, finding the company of the majority of the herd whilst trying to sleep - and often not succeeding in finding said slumber - was counterproductive. At least when it was just us, we could concentrate on honing our skills together, each of us working away at the insomnia with midnight fitness routines, or discovering new ways to heal, perhaps trying different elixirs, or poultices. The art of healing was not necessarily one that my beloved thought herself completely suited to, but that did not stop her from trying to embrace it wholly.

"Africa!" Her friendly tones called out to the mare, that same smirk curving her lips in a devious, playful manner as she approached the mare. When one learned to read the body for signs of unwellness, other things often became apparent - a gesture, the silent language of the body became more pronounced. I felt my bonded look at the way Africa carried herself, the way the mare seemed to be looking for something, or someone - perhaps her new friend, Ahi? - and I felt the curiosity swell within the breast of my little cloud. "Have you lost someone?" Cherubic tones asked kindly, her head tilting laterally, like a young pup would tilt his crown at an unusual sound or an interesting smell. I walk beside my beloved, her silent guardian, as always, my gaze ever watchful for anything that might threaten this fragile peace we have obtained.