Welcome to Gaia! ::

Thunder pealed across the sky and echoed across the stone mountains that sheltered the alpine valley that the Thunderbird herd called home. The winds were whipping about, whistling through the feathers of the double set of wings that grew from the broad back of the stallion who dared to fly.

A fine mist of what was threatening to be rain clung to him, giving his coat a wet sheen, and it was only a matter of time before the fat drops of full fledged rain would begin to fall.

Most logical soquili avoided travel in weather like this, especially flight. It was dangerous. The strong winds could send even those expert at flying careening out of control. You could feel the thunder, it resonated through you, shaking you to the bone. And the rain could cling to wings, making flight even more difficult.

But, this was the weather that Thunderbird loved. He lived for days like this. The storms were an extention of himself. Flying with the winds whipping all around him was a pleasure that knew no match.

He had been accompanying Balrog on his patrols for months now. Listening to his instructions. How to watch and scout from far above. How to recognize what shifting grasses might be a deer, and what might be a dangerous cougar.

He had been itching to go out alone for some time. But always, he wasn't ready yet. He wasn't ready yet. Finally, Thunderbird proved that he was competant. His anger had boiled over, and the skies had darkened to mirror his frustration. And Balrog saw how adept he was in the air, even in bad weather.

He could see the pride in his eyes.

Balrog was no stranger to flying in poor weather either - he had been flying for more seasons than many of the younger members of the herd combined. But something about the angeni that he called his son showed that he was almost more at ease in a storm than in calm weather.

And so from then, he had believed in his competance in the air, and let him share the patrols. He had agreed to let him take the skies during the storms - after all, as Thunderbird had pointed out - one should never cease to be vigilant.

And perhaps, it was no coincidence that the summer storms seemed to be particularly common this year...

As Thunderbird grew, so did his realization that he had a connection with the weather. It seemed to echo his emotions. Balrog and Stormwild perhaps hadn't realized how appropriate their name for him had been. The spirit of the storm they followed had indeed blessed his arrival.


The frequent storms over the mountains had drawn the attention of another. The storm-chaser, the mare who lived for the exhaltation of the storms. While she had no control over the forces of nature, she followed them. She had never found her place among other soquili. She was strange looking, she didn't seem to relate well to others. And she had a hard time staying in one location, especially when the weather was fair.

The storms had been calling her. She could feel it in her blood and her bones. She could never quite put it to words, but she felt truly alive when she was out in a storm, feeling the thunder and watching the lightning arc all around her.

She had closed her eyes, letting the winds guide her. It wasn't until a boom of thunder rattled very close by that she opened her eyes, through the grey skies, and saw that another soared and dipped through the clouds.


Thunderbird was suddenly aware that he wasn't alone. Another soquili had braved this storm and he angled his flight, navigating the swirling winds with a practiced ease. Was she lost? Trapped in the strange currents of air in the storm?

Even members of his own herd who exhalted in the power of nature and the skies only flew in weather like this out of necessity.

But as he flew closer, he saw a very different story. The mare's wings were spread and held solidly, beating occasionally to angle or fly up into the heart of the storm. He could smell no fear on the air, he saw no frenzied struggle against the wind. He saw a calmness, an intensity.

He was intrigued.

He flew after her, following the air path she had taken.


Stormcloud turned her head quickly, seeing as the stallion raced to catch up with her.

With a snort of disdain, she flew harder into the storm, shouting out to him, "I do not need you help, stallion. Leave me to the winds and the rain." She scoffed at him with a flash of lightning in her eyes.


Rebuffed! Thunderbird could hardly believe his ears. How dare she!

With a challenging whinny, Thunderbird raced ahead, his powerful wings giving him the advantage. "Perhaps you don't need my help yet!" He responded boastfully.


With a strange blend of indignance and surprise at the gall of the stallion, Stormcloud refused to be shown up. This was her element. No one else understood. Was he just doing this to try to impress her? He'd likely wind up hurt - whipped around in the air or struck by lightning.

With a crackle to her voice like the buzz of lightning, Stormcloud whinnied a laugh.

"You're going to get yourself hurt, foolish Stallion." She chided. But he was a strange one. Too many wings. How did he not get them in the way of each other? Surely, he could not navigate the storm well... but as she watched, she found herself proven wrong. He knew how to catch the correct updrafts, to ride the ripples of thunder and fearlessly dove through the dark clouds.


Was it possible... no.. in all her years, Stormcloud had yet to meet a soquili cut from the same cloth. She had been convinced she was unique. A misfit, with only the thunderclouds to be her herdmates.


"NEVER!" Thunderbird trumpeted as he went into a spin, thoroughly showing off as he danced with the wind at truly dizzying, breakneck speeds. The winds themselves seemed to bend to the direction he wanted to go, lifting him, carrying him in a display that seemed nearly impossible.

He loved it. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw the mare chasing him, her mane almost indistinguishable from the thunderclouds themselves as she tore after him fearlessly into the storm after him. Electricity arced between the horns on her head, seeming to shimmer over her coat and dance over the moisture that clung to her as well.

It was beautiful. No! Concentrate.


Side by side they raced. Stormcloud couldn't fathom how he seemed to always catch the perfect updraft. How he could match HER in stormchasing?!

And with each windbeat, the competition escalated until there was no more forethought, just action. Reaction to a change in winds, pushing themselves harder, harder, until it was hard to distinguish where the horses stopped and the winds and driving rain began.

They flew, time meaningless as they fought eachother and the storm, as it intensified, so did their flight. They raced and dove and soared until the pelting rain began to ease.


Only when the last peal of tunder was an echo in the distance did their hooves once again touch earth. Their sides heaved in and out, as they regarded each other. There were no more baiting words, no more mocking. Just one mutual look of respect.

Teumesia cackled to herself as she careened into the tangled forest, wings pulled in close to her sides. She landed hard, sides heaving. She had been running, flying for probably hours, though despite the fire that burned in her muscles, she could have gone for longer, pushed herself more. It set her heart racing and she loved it. Loved nothing more than the adrenaline that made her feel so alive, the ire and hatred she could stir within others with the destruction that she could cause. ''

Early this morning, as the people were heading out to the fields of corn that they had been painstakingly cultivating, Teumesia had struck. She had waited, long enough to be seen, to see THEM. To see their faces as they saw the uprooted plants, the trampled corn, the decimation. The realization that the food they had been counting on for months was gone. And then she felt nothing but glee as they spotted her, knew she was the one responsible. And then... the best part. The chase.

She led them for miles, holding herself back just enough that they could keep her in sight. But out of range of the arrows that they sent whistling after her. She loved the chase. Making them think they were powerful, in control, but in truth, it was her leading them. The eyes that peered out through her flanks could watch them without ever slowing down to turn her head. Her great wings could propel her faster than their silly ground soquili could ever dream to travel.

The game was on. And Teumesia had become an expert player. They began to wane the longer they went. They were going as fast as they could, but for Teumesia, this was an easy pace. Finally, one warrior remained, fire burning in his eyes. This was the point.

It was time for the hunter to become the hunted. She flew into the dark woods, eager, heart racing. It wouldn't be long now.

Her shining white pelt was certainly anything but camoflaged in the woods, but she knew what she was doing.

The soquili that the hunter was riding went wide-eyed as they approached the forest. He knew the dangers that lurked inside. His shrill whinny tried to warn the two-legger of the danger that lurked in waiting. But rage blinded the man, and he grabbed his spear and rushed into the woods... to his death that waited.

Nothing tasted quite so savory as a meal that had been truly earned. Where every step of her hunt had brought excitement, destruction, and exhiliration.

Teumesia had ben born in blood. Her birthing basket was originally not her own. The foal that had already nested inside was her first kill. It had nourished the infant monster. When she finally broke free of the wicker trap, she was soaked in its blood. Her monstrous father had licked her and her siblings clean, not long before her mother had, rather violently, set them out on their own into the world, tired of caring for them, not wishing to care for something else.

She did not resent her parents. They created her, gave her life. She felt no wrongness having been left to her own devices. She had watched other foals nurtured and bound by their parents. And she was glad for her independence. No rules. No restrictions. Every impulse, every whim drive her. And nothing could stop her.


Teumesia had never stopped to give thought to the fact that there might be other denizens in this forest. She didn't care. She had never had any reason to fear anything.

But the strangled screams had drawn the attention of something dark. Something that was lurking, slithering through the woods that it claimed as its own. Teumesia had never heard the whispered rumors about this dark forest. About how it was haunted, or how monsters dwelled inside.

But as the screams wafted through the woods, it drew the attention of one creature in particular like a shark to blood.

The shadows of the forest crawled, the presence seeking out what dared intrude on its domain, and what brought such delightful, spine-tingling screams echoing through the trees.

Anju had been restless. It was... almost disappointing how much the rumors of his forest had spead. The feint of heart almost never ventured in. On one side... it was thrilling how his influence was spreading, how he knew that tales were whispered to younglings to keep away. Of the creatures that might come and snatch them in the night. But on the other hand, it made things so dull some times. It made for longer ventures from his woods to find something fun to play with.


Teumesia didn't notice the shadows deepening as she dug into her prey. It was rare that her guard was slack, but as she reveled in the kill, in the savory taste of hot, steamin flesh in the cold evening air, she was distracted. Part of her noticed that it was growing dark. But that was nothing for her to fear. It was growing late.

It wasn't until she was muzzle-deep in her kill that she began to realize just how dark it was growing. Even her glowing eyes were having difficulty piercing the depths. The space between the trees seemed to be growing smaller as the darkness swelled. The shadows that they cast seeemed to claw over her, like they were grabbing at her, writhing around her. And Teumesia began to feel uncharacteristically clausterphobic.

She lifted her head, her ears laying back against her head as she scanned the woods around her. A deep, warning growl rumbling in her throat.


Anju edged closer, watching, delighting as he sensed an inkling of unease about the strange mare. The blood smelled intoxicating. It was a man that lay dead at her paws. And she defended it as any predator would a kill, with a growl, and the fur at her shoulders standing on edge. Her tail lifted in a dominant display and those odd wings at her shoulders spread ever so slightly, the maw-like shapes snapping.

But what drew the shadowy creature's attention the most were the glimmering red eyes that peered out through her pelt.

As she snapped and growled, Anju... laughed. The sound was skittering spiders that came from everywhere.


Teumesia didn't like this. She didn't like this at all. There was something out there her eyes couldn't see. She raised her wings to snap, the 'false heads' were a common defense mechanism for the mare, that could confuse simpler predators like wolves or cougars. However, the small clearin she had found seemed... much smaller. The vines snagging the feathers as she moved her wings about.


She began to quickly realize that her quick retreat of the skines was not an option. The concealing tangled woods that had served her well in trapping the two-leg was now caging her in. And it was driving her mad.

Something was wrong. Very wrong. How dare she be put at a disadvantage. How dare something move in on her prey.



Anju savored this moment. The unease, the confusion. His targets not knowing what was out there, where it was coming from. That unknown that seeded fear into the most stalwart predator. He had played this game many times. So many times that it had almost grown dull for the creature. He often took on particular projects. Individuals that had a particularly succulent note of fear. Buttons he had discovered that he could prod and pry and slowly watch the victim's descent into pure madness.

He had done this often with vulnerable soquili. Ones who began damaged, or weak. He had conducted his own sort of devious experiments, seeing how his blood could corrupt the pure hearted, the simple. The offspring he had produced with such mares delighted him. Those that he had raised were every bit as darkhearted. One conniving, one mad. Those that had grown up apart from him, that he had tracked down, were not without the mar he had left on his lineage.

Anju's mind was as twisted and slippery as the shadows that made up his form. And a new mote of intrigue began to ferment in his mind.



"Show yourself." Teumesia growled, challengingly. "You want to steal my prey? To take it like a theiving scavenger? Just TRY!"


The laugh echoed around her again. "Your prey?" The voice was infinitely worse than the laugh. A raspy whisper that seemed to be spoken directly into her ears. The inflections were in the wrong places, as if the words were foreign to it. "I did not come here for your prey, creature. I came here for YOU."


Teumesia blinked, incredulously. "Me? ME! You will find no prey here, coward! Show yourself, and I will show you what a true predator is."


She was bolstering her confidence. Anju couldn't have that.

The darkness behind her seemed to coalesce, and silently, Anju stepped out of the shadows. She was bristling in the other direction, poised, waiting for him when he hissed his laugh behind her.


She reeled, snarling and snapping before even pausing to process what this adversary looked like. She struck out with her claws, gnashing her teeth to hit the source of this infuriating laughter, the creature who dared threaten her!

But it was like hitting smoke. When she thought she had hit him, she ... she must have missed. Her jaws audibly gnashed at air, as it seemed to flow and swirl out of the way.

Ears pinned back, she growled, blinking, for the first time seeing what she faced.

For once, she hesitated. She was staring back at a creature every bit the monster as herself or her parents.


Anju smiled, a wide, wicked smile as he could see the realization sink into her eyes. He savored it as he moved towards her.


The darkness that surrounded her, this creature seemed to be the face of the darkness itself. Never before had she felt trapped, captured. But as the darkness seemed to swallow up every bit of remaining light, even her gleaming coat was cast in the dark shadow. Her heart began to beat faster, faster faster as she tried to back up, but had no where to go.


"You've wandered into my world, filly." He whispered harshly. "This... bothers you doesn't it? Being trapped. Restrained." there was glee in his eyes as he discovered her button. And yet, she was an impressive creature. Strong, fierce.
"I bet it is rare that you are the one who is frightened. That you face true fear."


She swallowed. Hard. She wouldn't let it get to her. She was stronger than that. She was the predator! She was the monster! She turned to face him, focusing.

There was fear she was trying to swallow down. She didn't want to show how raw the nerve was that he had chomped on. But she was better that. This was a challenge. A real challenge.

With a swish of her tail, she rushed him. She'd even the playing field.


The confrontation was like a bull and a matador. She rushed him, and at the last moment, she was side-stepped, the monster flowing out of the way.

Anju's eyes narrowed. She seemed to be suppressing her fear. But in truth, he knew that it was just another primal reaction to it - flight or fight. Or... a few other less common reactions. And he was happy to indulge her. It was different. The different that he had craved. And there was more than a modicum of respect for the she-beast that charged him in infuration.

what a chance encounter.


And as she spun around yet again, she realized that the fervid battle was becoming more like a fruitless sparring match. he never struck back, just taunted her and avoided her blows. He just laughed at her curses and snarls. The shadows around her becoming tighter and darker until it seemed like everything around her was blackness, his six-eyed toothy smile the face on it. She could no longer tell where he began or ended, and soon, she could barely tell where she began or ended, being swallowed up by the blackness.

Teumesia came to with the suddenness of a crack of a whip, a sharp intake of breath, and lashing out all at once with her limbs and wings. She snapped out a ferocious barking growl that gave even the branches of the nearby trees a shudder. But for all her bluster and ferocity, her shadowy attacker was now gone.

She was on her feet, long fangs exposed in a snarl, circling in place, every eye blinking, and sniffing the air to see if he was nearby. But her attacker had had very little scent to begin with, and the trees still cast heavy shadows across the forest around her.

How long had she been out? What had happened?

She seemed, for the most part, unharmed, but her pride, her dignity - someone had caught her. It was unfathomable. It was intolerable! Who DARED lay hand or hoof on her?!

SHe still felt eyes on her flank, though she didn't see anyone. She could swear she still heard a ghostly laughter echoing directionlessly through the woods.

What magic was this?! What demon had she encountered? She was furious, but she was also intrigued. None had ever dared stand before her before. None had gotten close to touching her when she did not wish to be touched.

She had merrily laid waste to countless fields, smashed baskets, tormented soquili and two-leggers alike, but she had never been caught. And now, when she hadn't even initiated the taunt, something had gotten the jump on her.

Most soquili would cut their losses and leave, never to look back on these dark woods. Teumesia, however, was anything but most soquili. She would not be taken advantage of again. And perhaps there was something she could learn from this. Some lesson she could extract from the shadow-creature's hide. Perhaos she could be made the stronger from the experience.

So instead, Teumesia pulled her wings in tightly and began to pick her way deeper into the forest.

And as she traveled, she began to feel a sense of... famiarity. THese woods were not unlike the woods she had been born to. Dark and tight, viney and brambley, with an almost palpable sense of foreboding. To her, this felt... right.

Memories of her foalhood with her parents, things that she rarely dwelt on because they had no impact on her grown life flashed by. The fierce beast that was her father, with his grand wings that she had inherited. Her snappish, sinister mother that could grow small and more canine and slip through the brambles as if they were nothing but mist. They had loosed her and her siblings into the world young, but they were strong.



As the mare traveled carefully through the trees, unperceived, a certain shadowy figure DID watch with a grin as she drew closer to the grounds that he and his ... family had claimed. The monster was curious. She did not act as the other mares had acted. She was strong, and while certainly not fearless, she was made of a different mettle than most others outside of his herd.

Anju was not like his son, Taraxippus. He cared little for the number or the strength of the collection of soquili that had been growing in what was once just his home. He had very mixed... 'emotions' about the sentiment of a family. But there had been an undenyable curiousity that had grown within him. The array of creatures of this land, and what his influence had on them - be it through interactions that left many scarred, shaken or broken... or how his blood mixed - tainting and corrupting, leaving a dark mark for generations. It delighted the dark creature. And this demented curiousity helped him deal with the ... mortal attachment that he sometimes felt. A protectiveness of his progeny and a sense of attachment... or perhaps it was just pride, in seeing these creations of his.

He did frequently spend long periods away from them, stalking the woods like the predator that he was, delighting in the torment that he caused. However, he frequently left his victims alive, leaving his mark on their psyche. Only to track them down later to reunite them with their terror. Besides, his son was more than capable of keeping a handle on his progeny. He... trusted Taraxippus, and that was likely the greatest compliment that the monster could pay.

But it was with curious eyes that the creature shadowed the stark white mare. It was with a deliberate goal that the path seemed less dark as it led her straight to his territory.

Teumesia noticed as she traveled, the sign of a traveled path - large soquili-sized hoofprints came and went along a narrow pathway that meandered deeper into the woods. With silent paws, she followed it.

Until a clearing opened before her. It was not entirely open - though an old-looking two-legger's dwelling was tucked into a corner - though the clearing tended to wrap and wind around like a veritable maze. There were nooks, passages through the trees, and the heavy smell of horse and blood.

Almost immediately, a soquili was before her. Teumesia snapped, as at first glance it seemed to be the same creature that had ambushed her earlier. But with a second glance, he was different. An ebony horn jutted from his forehead, and he possessed only two amber eyes.

Taraxippus was preparing to launch a very pointed defense of the territory - from whatever fool was stupid enough to walk right into his territory when he caught sight of her, and the faint to most but unmistakable scent to the stallion of his father.

A cunning smile replaced the snarl that had been on his face a moment before. "I see you have met my father." Taraxippus spoke , his words like snakes.



"Your father?" Teumesia repeated warily. "Who are you? What are you?"

A flash of recognition flared briefly in his eyes. He remembered seeing a powerful black stallion that looked remarkably like this mare. HE remembered seeing baskets, soaked in blood... he remembered his intent on keeping an eye on them, but the distraction that had come in the form of a foreign mare with exciting potential. "What am I?" Taraxippus repeated her words this time, with a sardonic smile. "A strange question coming from one who must be asked that very question. 'What' is irrelevant - a word would not give you any more explanation than your eyes already have. I am as I seem - darkness given thought. And if you are here... then the darkness must have smiled on you... and you must have accepted its challenge.

She flared her wing out in a display of a confidence that for once she did not feel. "Cryptic words! What do you want?" She barked, wings pantomiming a snap.

Taraxippus did not back up. HE just smiled contritely as she put up a defence. He could sense her unease. "You are the one who has come to my home. However, let me put this more plainly for you..." His words, while they had the hint of a patronizing tone, were seductively spoken. "One does not find my herdgrounds... alive... unless they have a reason to be here. Unless they are strong.

This is a home for such strong-willed and able-bodied soquili. Those that are feared by most other soquili. Those that understand the exhilaration of the hunt, the succulent taste of blood. Here we can learn, refine our skills, and for our numbers, we are stronger than any alone."

Teumesia's eyes narrowed. "I don't need a herd." She snapped derisively. "I'm strong enough on my own! None can control me - none can catch me! I do as I will and any who don't like it are powerless to stop me."

Taraxippus rolled his shoulders. "None of us perhaps need a herd. However... if you are turly unanswerable, what is it that seems to have unsettled you so? Perhaps there are those out there with more power than you gave them credit for. Those... that others may have underestimated. You cannot learn unless you open yourself to such a notion."

Teumesia flicked an ear back, eyes still narrowed and directed at the shadowy stallion. "Teach me what?"

Excellent. He had hooked her. "Stay. And find out." This one would be more of a challenge... but while he could sense her value of freedom, she was not like him - she was not a true schemer. She was impatient and impulsive. And it was someone just like her who could be the most easily manipulated. Set a shiny before them and they jumped. Say the right words and they will think that it was their idea all along.

Her tail swished contemplatively. "ANd if I want to hunt - if I want to fly and cause havoc on my own?" She queried, skeptically.

Taraxippus laughed coldly. "Then who are we to stop you? What I offer is not a cage. It is merely a home that you can return to when you have tired on the chase. And others that can teach you to be more effective at your games.

Teumesia just watched him for a few moments as the thoughts tumbled in her head. There didn't seem to be a catch, a drawback. ANd... if there was, well then, she could just leave! This creature didn't even have wings. The clearing was open enough she could take flight from here directly.

She glanced around, catching glimpses of others - a dark azure stallion with long silvery horns, a dusky mare whose mane and tail seemed to be made of fire itself. A stallion with grinning skulls of every color imprinted on his coat.

Perhaps... this could be interesting... "Maybe I will stay for a while." Teumesia responded with a mock-offhandedness. "But if I get bored, I'm gone." She responded pointedly to the stallion.

"But of course. But I can promise you one thing. Your stay here will be anything but boring." Taraxippus finished with a delightfully twisted grin.

It was a grey, misty morning that Firestorm stood at the precipice of the cliff, looking down at the lush valley that he had once called his home. The moment seemed frozen in time as the ramifications of what he was about to do gripped him, pulling at his wings and weighing him down. It was as if the early-morning dewdrops that still clung to his wings were made of lead.

By Firestorm's account, this land was rightfully his. HE was the golden child of the herd, and yet he had been dismissed as casually as if he were one of the wingless lessers. He was Balrog's son. The only son that had stayed in the herd... at least until that pretender arrived. He was an alicorn - brandishing a golden horn in the center of his forehead. Balrog himself had taught him the ways of being a protector of these lands. He taught him how to defeat, to kill the cougars and other predators that threatened the lives of the soquili that rested in the alpine valley. He had told him that these lands that lay in the bowl of the mountains were theirs... his home.

But Balrog hadn't cared when Firestorm called him weak. He hadn't stood up for him when Stormwild - who wasn't even his mother! - had taken offense at the mare he had chosen as his mate. She had wings. She was strong - stronger than any of the lazy soquili who rested in the valley. Stronger than the old alpha and protector who had grown fat and sedentary. And she dared to imply that she wasn't good enough? She was scared. Scared of the power that she lent him, that she gave their foals - their THREE foals!

Firestorm was young. Firestorm was strong. And it was time for a shift of power.

The other members of Balrog's herd could stay if they sided with him. But Firestorm's frustration with Balrog had become outright hatred. The final straw had come when that little freak had broken free of his basket before his very eyes. He had heard the story - the skinwalker attacks that had killed their foals (that Stormwild wasn't even strong enought to protect!) And this foundling they had adopted and called their own. Firestorm didn't care how similar the markings were. It didn't smell right to him. And the little freak had too many wings, which Balrog seemed to adore. How could something fly and keep those things straight? Balrog virtually forgot that Firestorm was standing there when this colt had emerged, so eager to transfer his pride to IT. He had even named it "Thunderbird". The totem that Balrog followed. It added insult to injury.

Balrog had cast Firestorm aside like so much garbage. He doubted that he even lent him a passing thought on any given day now that he was out of sight and out of mind.

Well, Balrog would remember him Now.



Three figures stood nearby. Firestorm's NEW Family. With a wicked smile, Shinoma stood by his side, crooning with pleasure at the impending assault. It was in no small part to her careful prodding, saying just the right words when Firestorm was ready to listen that he stood here now. She delighted in the fact she had pushed him to this confrontation, truly severing him from the herd of mostly peaceful wind soquili. She loved seeing the fire of hatred in his eyes, and the willingness to kill.

She had done precisely what it was that Stormwild had feared. But had she not initially tried to dissuade Firestorm from taking her as a mate, then it was possible that this confrontation would never have come.

But now, the worst fears were about to be realized. Firestorm had been turned against his birth-herd, and stood now by her side. It was an ultimate conversion, and an ultimate expression of her power.

And while she was pleased just knowing this day had come, she woudl not back down from the impending fight. She was strong.

And behind the couple, two figures, slightly smaller but full adults in their own right watched, listening to Firestorm explain what he knew about the placid soquili that nested in the valley below. Talking strategies.

One was Vesuvius, a hotheaded stallion who delighted in causing chaos. He could barely restrain himself at the thought of the havoc that they would wreak on the unsuspecting soquili below.

The other, a unikalona mare stood with a wicked smile, listening carefully to Firestorm's words, calculating the attack. Firestarter knew how integral she and her brother were to his plans, that he had waited specifically until they were grown and had proved themselves able hunters, and unhesitatingly willing to kill.
She looked with contempt at the tiny figures below. Those that had cast her father out and not understood what they were casting aside.

She cast a knowing smirk to her brother, and knew that they both were thinking the same thing.

Missing from the collection on the edge of the cliff was the third child, Yamika. While she seemed to ebb and flow with a passing breeze even more so than their demonic mother, there was something in her that was weaker than Firestarter or Vesuvius. She didn't have their fangs, their bat-like wings. And unlike their father, she didn't have the anger that boiled in their breasts like a rolling fire. She had no stomach for meat, and when there was talks and strategy on the attack... she had grown distant.

They had understood the signs, and eventually Firestorm had agreed, albeit gruffly, that if she did not have the stomach for what was needed to be done, than it was better off without her. She would have been a liability.

And with her distance, Firestorm had thrown himself more into this plot. He would prove to his other children the strength of their family... and give them the home that they deserved.

Finally, with a signaling nod, He snapped his wings open, and tore towards the valley.

*****

It was a quiet morning for the Thunderbird herd. Balrog had been slow to rise this morning; it was a blissfully cool morning respite from the heat of mid-summer. And a particularly hot summer it had been. Waves of heat rose from the browned grass, and even the mountain streams did little to alleviate the heat for long.

Something had not settled right with Balrog these past few weeks. He couldn't put his hoof on it, but something had seemed askew. But if any others were aware of a problem, they hadn't indicated it. There was the same pleasant conversations, same familiar faces, and the patrols had not yielded any strange activity. No skinwalkers had launched an attack, no demons had been sighted. And yet, something still did not seem right with the aging stallion. Stormwild had tried to alleviate his anxiety, telling him that he was looking for problems where there were none.


And, perhaps she was right. Thunderbird was growing into a magnificent stallion - one that did his parents proud. He had even taken a mate - a strange, but seemingly genuine mare. While she did have strange horns on her head, her wings were as grand and feathered as Balrog's or Stormwild's. And she truly seemed to love nothing more than soaring with the clouds, and racing the storms. Even her name brought a smile to Balrog's face, Stormcloud. She had been looking for a place to call her home. No one before his son, Thunderbird knew the love of flight and the passion of the storm. It was almost as if she was destined for this herd. She had found her home here. And while she and Thunderbird were prone to long meandering flights that took them far from the herdlands, they always returned, chests heaving with pure, simple exhaustion. They seemed to understand each other even better than Balrog or Stormwild knew them. But, he was happy for them. Thunderbird still had total loyalty to his family, and to his herd, and Balrog and Stormwild were glad to welcome her to the herd.

However, it was right as Balrog was rising, flicking his great wings to cast off the dew to begin his morning patrol of the herdgrounds that he spied four shapes moving towards them.

He was immediately at attention, bellowing a deep whinny of alarm. The movement wasn't casual, it was direct, fast, and carried the sound of leathery wings.


Stormwild was immediately up and ready. For her gentle nature, she knew when the time came to protect what she loved. However, when one figure at the front drew closer and the light of the rising sun glinted off ebony and crimson fur, her eyes widened in horror.

"Firestorm.." She whispered dismayed to her mate.

Shapes were already begining to approach from the herdgrounds - his fiersome daughters who were ever so aptly named Cataclysm and Maelstrom, Thunderbird and his mate when Balrog heard the word leave Stormwild's mouth.

"No." His blood ran cold as he now could see for himself the stallion that flew towards them. This was no visit - everything about the posture of the careening stallion spoke of hatred and fire and challenge.

That was his son.

he had always been stubborn, hot headed, and aggravating to deal with. But a part of Balrog had always been proud of that. He never knew just how much he took after him. Although when Balrog was met with Firestorm's Ego and temper, he rarely could keep his own in check.

Fleetingly, as the moment seemed to stretch on before the impending clash, Balrog remembered once, long ago, when he had called out a challenge to the spirits themselves. Something to prove his strength against - something for him to do to prove the worthiness of the herd that he had been instrumental in pulling together.

But not this. Not his son whose mind had been twisted by demons and turned against them.

But Balrog knew that there was not reasoning with him now. No time for regrets or apologies. Now, he had to do what needed to be done.

Balrog readied himself, murmuring only one simple instruction to the collection of herdmates that had flocked to the defense of the herd.

"Don't kill them."

All at once, the silence of the valley was broken in a great clash. Beating wings, screaming whinnies of anger and pain as the two forces came together.


There was murder in the eyes of Firestorm and his Kalona ilk. And that gave them the initial advantage. Many of the herdmates paused when they saw the soquili at the front of the invading force - this challenge to the leadership of the herd that had gone unquestioned for years. And this challenge had come in the form of none other than the protector's very son.


Very quickly, Balrog sprung forward, facing Firestorm's challenge directly.

"You have come here for ME, Firestorm! COME! FACE ME! If you come to take my herd then you have to defeat me first!"


Firestorm wheeled, seething hatred darkening his face as he flew towards his father, wrapping all of the resentment and hatred into one lunging assault. "You b*****d!" He whinnied, attempting to spear the elder with his shining horn. "You cast me aside! NEver listened! You have grown WEAK!"

"I will show you strength, boy. You will see now the impetuousness of your words and see the strength that it takes to lead a herd!"


And soon, words were lost in the frenzy of the fight.
Firestorm was indeed strong and vivacious. He had trained for years to be an adept fighter. But for all his ego and training, he was not ready to face the full force of Balrog not holding back on him.

The smirking mockery was quickly wiped from Firestorm's face as he quickly began to realize just what he had gotten himself into. Balrog was larger than Firestorm, easily outweighing him by at least a hundred pounds. And Firestorm didn't remember just how large his wings were. He maneuvered as if there were no boundary between land and air. He was faster than he looked and knew just how to use his weight to his advantage.

His hooves came down on him like falling boulders. And Firestorm began to feel the chill of fear... as for the first time the thought entered his mind that he might not win this.

He glanced around wildly, seeing his mate... his children clashing with the members of the Thunderbird herd. He saw his sisters tag-teaming against his son... and his heart began to strain with anguish.


This wasn't how it was supposed to go.

This wasn't right.

But the more he looked, the more members of the Thunderbird herd there seemed to be here, fighting against them. Soquili who he had seen as complacent now rose to the challenge - their strength that Firestorm had always mocked before now became apparent.

For a moment, Firestorm looked around wildly, realizing that Balrog wasn't around him. He had been distracted, and his ears were back, eyes wide. And then, seemingly out of nowhere, Balrog was on him again from above, His hooves knocking him down, pinning him to the ground.

Balrog lowered his head to his son, struggling fruitlessly under his pin. "You have lost, Firestorm. You have called me weak for the last time. Leave now, and NEVER return. You are no longer my son.

Despite the powerful blows that the stallion had landed against him, and despite the anger that had overridden the love that Firestorm had felt for his father, these words fell heavier on Firestorm than any other blow.

He cast his eyes aside, snarling in contempt and feeling every mix of emotions tumbling in his chest. Hatred, anger, sadness - all to such an extreme.

His ears back, Balrog lifted his hoof to release Firestorm, his head down, entire posture a powerful challenge.

Firestorm quickly extracted himself from the humiliating position of defeat, unable to look Balrog in the eye any longer. He turned, begining to call his family to him, to retreat, when he spied Firestarter - his daughter, slender and small being buffeted by HIM.

All memory of the defeat and intent on fleeing was gone. It was Thunderbird. Now grown to be an even bigger freak, attacking his daughter.

Without thinking, he was on him, striking at him with his hooves, lancing him with his horn. All He didn't care, all he wanted to do was hurt and scar this "perfect" son, to expose him for the imposter that he was.

But right as the angeni began to turn, calling out in surprise at the sudden assault from behind, a slamming blow hit Firestorm on the side of his head, and the world went fuzzy.

The last thing he saw before the world went dim was Balrog's enraged face...


*******

Firestorm eventually came to with the rushing of water and the roar of the waterfall where he had first met Shinoma.
His head pounded, and he felt an enormous welt making the entire side of his face swell painfully. He saw the scorn on the face of his son, the shaking head of his daughter - both of which sported large welts.

He lay his head down, exhausted beyond reason, wishing that he could just close his eyes forever in his shame.

He had lost.

He was not as strong as his father.

And he could never, ever return.

And more than that, he could see the loss of respect in the eyes of his children. Before this foolhearty venture, he had at least had that. Now, he was beaten and bruised. His wings ached and felt as if one of the bones had been crushed, to add even further insult to injury.

He groaned, slipping his eyes closed once more and welcoming the blackness of unconsciousness.

Myriad red eyes shone out from a pale field of soft fur. She was like a pale ghost that drifted through the labyrinthine clearing that Anju and his herd called home. She took everything in - committing every nook to memory, and most importantly, the soquili that called this land their home already. Some met her eyes boldly, curiously, others... jealousy or even trepidation. While Teumesia was a soquili driven by impulse rather than schemes or tedius planning, even she could smell the potential collected amongst this motley crew of soquili.

But ultimately, she wasn't quite sure how it made her feel. Staying with another group of soquili. Being... one of many. Granted, Taraxippus had told her she was free to carry on with her whimsies, but ... she couldn't help feeling like there was some sort of catch. Even though she couldn't place it now, something made her feel uneasy.

She wasn't frightened of the shadowy unicorn - OR his father. Really. She wasn't frightened of anything. But she hadn't even lived with her parents and siblings for very long before being sent out into the world. She was self-reliant. And most importantly, she answered to no one.

But she still didn't, she told herself. She could leave whenever she wanted. She would try this out. That was a part of the freedom of life - experimenting. This was her whim - to see what having a herd was like. And if it didn't suit her, well then. It's not like they could stop her.

Teumesia stalked around a copse of trees, eyes roaming over its contents. At first, despite the smoldering crimson glow, she almost mistook the figure for something inanimate. But her eyes blinked and she turned her attention on what she now recognised as a stony mare.

She cocked her head. A red glow eminated from what almost looked like chipped away pieces of her hide. Her dark coat, the glowing slivers, at first, Teumesia might have called her a long lost sister. But no - while there were similarities at first glance, there were more differences.


Nocturne lifted her heavy head and met Teumesia's critical look with a somber, almost sad expression.

"Have you too come to stare at me?" She spoke with a hollow note in her voice, and with a thick accent that Teumesia didn't recognise. "I may be grotesque, but you could give me the dignity of words before staring."

With a snort and a flick of her ear backwards, Teumesia narrowed her eyes. Was this mare reprimanding her? "I can do what I like." Teumesia responded flippantly.

Something about this dark mare rankled her fur.

Nocturne frowned. "I was told that this herd accepted those with differences."

"Ah. I see that you are new as well." Teumesia responded bluntly. "Well. I might not stay." She mused, looking around herself again before back to the statuesque mare.
Despite her appearence, she smelled... anxious. She hid back here far away from the rest of the members of the herd as if she were using them as a shield more than any sort of companionship. But what would something like her be afraid of?

"I see." Nocturne responded, barely louder than a whisper. She looked at the red slivers in the other mare's fur. Not unlike her own wounds... but no - the way the light glinted, the subtle movements... like eyes...
Her wings were odd as well. But where Nocturne felt only awkward in her flesh, this mare seemed to ebb confidence.

Maybe she just had not seen the things that she had. The hatred in the eyes of those soquili who were blessed with normalcy.

Her thoughts were interrupted as Teumesia closed in on her, sniffing at her like a dog. "Who are you then?" she barked. "Why are you hiding back here like you're waiting to be swallowed up by the trees?"

Nocturne shook her head. "Maybe it would be for the best." She said morosely. "I was cast out of my home because I am a monster. And only here with other monsters can I find peace."

Teumesia blinked, an eerie action when mirrored by the pelt of eyes. "Monster?" She laughed outright at her. "You say that like there's something wrong with it!" She bared her teeth in a wicked grin. "You have to take that fear that others have for you and USE it."

Nocturne shook her head violently. "The people who sheltered me cast me out, they called me a freak. The hands that had brought me food instead broke me. I protected them all my life, and they cast me aside, seeing me for the demon I am."

Teumesia snorted. "Of course. They saw you as different, powerful, and that frightened them. And I bet you didn't even fight them, did you?"

"Of course not!" Nocturne responded, scandalized.

"Well there you go. They used you, and when they saw how strong you had become, they grew fearful and they cast you away because you were too weak, too broken to realize that you should have been the master."

Nocturne remained silent, shaking her head. "I wouldn't... I won't be the monster they thought I was."

Teumesia grinned. "But aren't you? I'm sure no other soquili have welcomed you into their herds, have they? And for such a strong-looking mare, you lack the strength of heart of even that little fluttercorn who claims her father is a demon."

"I don't care." Teumesia echoed hollowly.

"Hmmm, well, they brought you here for a reason, I'd suppose. Maybe eventually you'll stop feeling sorry for yourself and be what you're meant to be. You were a guardian you say? Well... the best defense if a good offense." Teumesia snipped. "If you get bored of sitting here in the gloom, maybe I'll show you how to have a good time."

She turned, flipping her tail in Nocturne's direction. What a stick in the mud. She obviously made the dark mare feel uncomfortable. The double set of wings reminded her of the stories of the angeni her mother had told her briefly about in their short time together with an angry and bitter note in her voice.

Well, if she wanted her to leave, she definitely wasn't going to. Not yet at least.

And who knew, maybe it would be fun showing her some time what she was missing out on.



Two shadows flitted between the trees, just behind the wake of Teumesia.

"Excellent." one whispered to the other after it watched the interactions between the two newest additions to his collection of soquili. There was a reason that Anju had claimed these deep woods with serpentine gaps as its territory. Even amongst his herdmates, the shadow could slip through unnoticed. He could keep an eye on the actions of this strange family group, and he had shared this technique with his eldest son, Taraxippus.

Taraxippus nodded to his father. They spent little time in each others company like this any more. Anju trusted him, and Taraxippus was content with the often-absent father. Anju left him to maintain this herd, to clutivate them and shape them subtly, and Anju went out to do what it was that he enjoyed - playing the monster and seeking out victims and projects. It was a usually silent understanding, but occasionally time necessitated that they meet, discuss the herd, and check in with each other as it were. It was more like a business than father-son time. But that suited the stallions perfectly fine.

"Interesting acquisition you have found, father." Taraxippus commented. "She's strong-minded and independent. However, knowing that, it makes her all the easier to control."

Anju just nodded, in a disinterested approval. "I thouht that you would enjoy a new plaything, Taraxippus. To add to the other mare that you have brought here. I have no doubt that you can handle them. But do not forget to indulge yourself." His mouth parted into a shark-like row of teeth.

"I have my aspirations... and my personal pleasures, father. This herd has much potential, which may bore you, but you have your pleasures... I have mine." He nodded respectfully.

Anju chuckled, a dry, whispery sound that sounded more like scittring creatures than any sort of mirthful noise. "I have had my own plots and aspirations and long-seeded plans in my day, Taraxippus. You may not see or know, nor do you need to. But for now... I am content to revel in the spoils of my own victory." His sets of eyes lingered on Taraxippus. "I do understand your scheming and great ideas. But do not lose yourself in them."

Taraxippus hung back, his own head cocked in confusion. What was he talking about? He rarely shared as many words with his father, and he never spoke about a time before these herdgrounds. But by the time he moved to join his side again, Anju had shaked his head as if to clear away a pesky fly, and melted once more into the shadows, his presence gone once more as if he had never been there. Anju rarely cared to share significant moments with even his son - and had almost never spoken to him about such personal matters.

Indeed, as if needing to atone for such a moment of sentimentality or weakness, he felt the urge to hunt, to terrorize rolling over in his core. To distance himself from these thoughts, memories, and these familial ties.

The night was here, and it was time for Anju to 'play'.