The moonlit land was bright enough for walking without stumbling; no longer did the plants and forest creatures rely on unnaturally bright tree forage. It had become easier to find food, and slightly less daunting when a fellow decided that walking the twists and bends of Threshold was a necessary evil. The night was still plenty full of danger; there seemed no end to the strange cries of pitiful creatures that had were starved for sunlight. I walked quietly between the trees, weaving carefully so that my feathers didn’t rustle against the brush and make unnecessary noise. This slice of land was my second home, and a favored place for those passing through Helovia.

Ahead was a small clearing, with dirty snow still upon the frosty earth and naked trees surrounding said clearing like silent sentinels. I pause inside the treeline, simply looking out for signs of life. Scents of others were always stronger in areas like these, but one in particular held my attention long enough for me to notice something curled up in the shadows. I might have passed her by without ever noticing if my training had been that of an inexperienced you; the darkness of pelt was perfect camouflage for a world such as ours. Pushing through an overhanging of dead limbs that scratched at my spine and clawed passionately at my wings—I approached slowly, with wary wisdom born from experience. She was alive at least, I could taste her breath upon the air even at this distance, and by the faint light I could make out her chest rising/falling with even pattern. It wasn’t so cold out that I worried about her health as one might during the thralls of Frostfall. Again I paused, close enough to not strain for words yet far enough away to avoid possible problems, “Well met Ma ’Lady.”

“Er, hello. I’m Iconic. You are?”

Apparently we both might have done better if I had just kept on walking, she appeared gruff and irritable. Not the polite response I was hoping for; apparently a pretty face wasn’t everything, and it certainly wasn’t physical appearance which would get her into a strong alliance. At least not through me. In the Threshold, friends happened to be helpful to those who aspired for something--this lass didn't appear well suited for the making of many 'friends.' With more grace than perhaps she deserved I murmur gently, “Please, call me Midas.” I wasn’t sure who or what had caused her to wake up so prickly, but there was little hope that it would change, “Oh yeah, and what ya want?”

Unflinchingly I held those brilliant aqua orbs and studied them with care. After a moment I thoughtfully said, “Hmmm…” Honestly the task of recruiting was case by case, and some cases panned out better than others, “I don’t suppose I want anything Lady Iconic. It just felt rude to pass by without a word.” These next few moments would spin out how our meeting was fated to travel; it would also announce if she was Throat material or not. Likely not, if first impressions were to be taken seriously; perhaps I could still help in some small way. Even if it was only giving Iconic directions to a herd that would be more her flavor. The ball was still in my court so I bounced it back with a question, “Are you new to Helovia?” It was an innocent enough to ask, hopefully my words would be received with some dignity.

Like a switch suddenly flipped, Iconic’s pretty face snapped out of its state of grumpy. She smiled sweetly and said, “Midas, why it is a pleasure to be in your presence.” That ebony crown dipped respectfully and my face softened into something that was borderline amusement; I returned her smile and listened quietly as she answered my question. That previous impolite attitude could easily be ridden off as a stress response to being in a new land, this idea satisfied us both enough to relax my quarters and start the process of reassessment. “It good that your time spent here has been fruitful,” I mused knowingly, “despite the unfortunate state Helovia remains stuck in.”

We had been standing apart, Iconic developed a sudden trust or favor and stepped closer. I made a point to remain unmoving, aside from adjusting feathers and the occasional absentminded flick of an ivory banner. Simply allowing her taller frame to close the distance separating us was best option. Each move was something calculated by the General side of a strategic brain in the meanwhile; she was dainty, but appeared well chiseled for the task of fighting. Her long limbs seemed to glide with little effort, a dancing partner worth of a spar or two and perhaps harboring a talent for spying perhaps.

“Please, do tell me more about yourself and these plans.” I offer, settling into an at-ease stance for the possibility that this could end up being a longer conversation than first thought.

A conversation that would be cut short. More company was well on its way, a female equine pushed past the trees and joined us. I could taste the aroma of Foothills lingering on her fur, she smelled like another home that was often on my mind. Ktulu and our precious little daughter, I wondered how they were doing. “Pardon me,” she chipped apologetically. A girl with some manners, “Nice to meet you Hana.” Iconic seemed less than thrilled by Hana’s abrupt entrance and rather direct words.

My golden pools shifted to Ktulu’s recruiter in surprise, she had blazed right past everything cautious and just dove into offering VIP access. What was Ktulu rearing these days? I wondered, but wouldn’t and couldn’t frown upon her efforts in front of this stranger. Such would be rude and dishonoring to both of our herds; instead, my ears pricked up to listen for how Iconic would handle the situation.

“Really? Are you serious?” Again it was astonishment which turned my crown back, both brows rose a fraction out of simply revelation by how blunt this woman was. There really was no beating around the bush with this lady, or regard for any feelings on Hana’s part. For a moment all I could do was just stare at them both, wondering why mares had to be so complicated with one another. Women were often very cruel to members of their own gender; and this was yet another fine example.

Still. What Iconic said was troubling. If she couldn’t survive in a family setting how could she be trusted with simple jobs such as patrolling and scouting? “Now, Midas, what part of these beautiful lands do you accompany?” quietly I answered her question, while sparing another glance toward Hana, “I hail from Dragons Throat, Lady Iconic.” Some people just couldn’t get along with others, I silently hoped that Ktulu’s attendee wouldn’t get bent out of shape by that negative response.

“Allow me to add though,” a deep sigh whelped behind my tonsils and threatened to erupt between my lips, “If working as a family, as one unit doesn’t appeal to you…I’m afraid my homeland will not satisfy your needs.” Lips had fallen into a halfsmile—I knew, everyone was different; and there was no reason to force outcasts into a territory which would be unappealing.

My previous thought was that this prickly little lady wouldn’t be so quick to muster a friendship, if first impression meant anything. When she said, “I would like to start by making friends with powerful beings, much like yourself,” I nodded with simple, humble understanding—it was natural to want alliances with those that held more position or ranking. Though how could she tell that I wasn’t anything more than a foot soldier? Rummage for battle?

It was hard to break subconscious pose, even when I mingled with family. There was always an air of control, perhaps, that intangible aura was what lead people to believe that I held a marshal namesake. Which…was true I suppose. She mentioned something about starting her own herd and I smiled politely; a young entrepreneur was always promising. Though, it was firmly believed that before someone should lead, they must have first learned to follow.

“Excuse my sudden outburst,” a dual apology, one that should be received, thanked and then dropped. Moving on, the raven like lady stepped forward. I stood still, watching her approach with a calm that came almost naturally. Underneath was a calculating warrior, gauging her worth unintentionally. “Dear, dear Midas.” My nearest ear flicked toward her, and crown shifted at a bend to regard her words fully without interruption from Hana. “I was only frustrated.” A previous withheld sigh finally came out as a soft gust, I shifted my feathers into a more comfortable position as she stepped away with a gracious smirk.

Women. So strange.

Though it was true that Hana’s approach had been rather…forward. I could see how someone might find her words offending if suddenly pressed to make a quick decision. Still, cordiality should come to rule out everything. “You are...welcome to visit my homeland if it pleases you Ma ’lady. It lies southeast of here, toward warmer parts of the ocean.” It would be rude to not at least give an invitation; she was after all. A Pegasus, and who knew, maybe the girl was just having a bad day. .

She seemed eager to say the least. Calmer, more respectful, as if nothing heated had transpired seconds ago. Hana, the wounded party of our conversation-- remained stony silent, unwilling to speak and likely looking for an exit out of this conversation. Silence was golden. I smiled, growing to favor Iconic a little more, now that both of our feathers had soothed out by this exchange. “That sounds splendid.” She said with pleasant manner. I thought that perhaps our warrior ranks could put her fiery spirit to good use, “When shall we visit there?” and “Who leads the herd of your homeland?” The fact that Iconic was willing to learn sparked my gentler side and the previous reserve I had been feeling, chipped away a little more. “Aye,” I said agreeably, “we can go now; it’s high time I returned anyways.” Cera was waiting, and Fina.

My rims flick up out personal humor when I think of another hot headed female that she would be following. Kri. “Our clan is led by two Sultana’s, Kri and Sumati.” Could this lass take direction from those of her gender? I waited, watching her face for any discontent. It was one thing to lead a herd, it was a whole other to follow under the stern hoof of our Sultana. Ktulu for example, hadn’t done well in Dragons Throat; and though I never asked about why she left, the fault was likely that of Kri. Not all could follow a woman with the same loyalty as a man, some simply harbored a resentment—though such emotion was foreign to me so I couldn’t even begin to explain their reasons. “Shall we?” I finally inquired after giving her a moment to think.