Photo © Tony McLean</style>
       It's too hot for the pair to fly, and thus the day has been filled with disgruntled whistles back and forth as they trudge through the heat. The ocean lies ahead, but Xira's whistle for Kye to test the waters is in vain. Stubbornly the falcon perches behind the thick-coated roan's ears, gripping a thick mane and poking through into flesh relentlessly. All attempts to shake her off are unsuccessful- Kye only lifts her head higher and squints her eyes further.

She is frustrated with the stubbornness of her bonded, yet she displays it just as much herself as she determinedly walks towards the water. The stale air surrounds her as she journeys forth, stirring only with the occasional beating of her wings and shuffle of Kye's feathers. When at last the ocean becomes more than a vision and a dream, and the earth beneath her hooves turns to the soft and forgiving surface of sand, she feels heat wrapped in every curl of her coat. It burns her from the core, and has built a rage that she just barely controls. No, Xira is not a creature of Tallsun.

She approaches the water at a slow gallop, relieved as it splashes upon her and seems to attract some of the heat. Still, the water is only tepid, and its saltiness keeps her from quenching her thirst and wetting her dry lips. As she walks further in and lowers herself into the water, a lazy Kye protests. The falcon begins to flap her wings wildly and hover above Xira, scratching her occasionally and letting out a low hiss. The roan mare snorts with annoyance, and the roll of her eyes aligns perfectly with the lifting of her left wing to strike Kye and push her down closer to the water. The falcon cries with annoyance, but Xira merely grins smugly as she dips her head in the salt and coats herself in the relief.

Suddenly, through the bright reflections of the sun, Xira catches sight of a mare with her sharp eyes. There is a soft whistle to call Kye to her side, and, perhaps due to the change in tone, the falcon knows better than to ignore it. She swoops, skimming the water with her sharp talons, and extends her feet to grab the base of Xira's wing as a perch. With caution the green roan lifts herself onto the shore, watching with slight distaste as the other mare's mane and tail set alight. She's seen followers of the sun in her travels- she had hoped the order would have all died out now along with Ra, but it seemed a few, with their trademark fiery locks, has pressed on.

"I'm sure you're enjoying the heat," Xira called out bitterly to the stranger, folding her wings tight to her side and cocking her head up in a subversive sort of resistance. Was there really any reason to be polite to someone who, just a few seasons earlier, would have considered this meaning a deigning, and called her scum as soon as it was over?