Speeding fast on the run, never want to get caught up.

YADIGAR

there’s a hole in my chest but it’s mine, baby, it’s all i got.

They had laid his father to rest but his dreams continued to burn brightly all across Beqanna in some form or another. Yadigar wonders if it was true that only the strong remained now. Perhaps a test was in order? It seemed like a proper way to mourn Ghaul, and he would be gentle in his prodding, as always.

He spreads his wings and gives a short crooning call in case any of the other members of Pangea are interested in stretching their legs. Then, with a flap of leathery wings, he is airborne and moving toward Loess. His claws are held tight to his underbelly while his spiked tail curls in whatever direction he leans. He has never been to the southern kingdom, fearing the Pangean king’s wrath, but he is eager to see it now.

He dips to his left and his path forms a slow arch over the rolling waves of grasses that form the meadow, then the barren winter branches of the forest. He leans to the right once more as he passes the mountain by. Finally, he finds himself gliding over the unfamiliar region - Loess.

Yadigar tucks his wings and begins to dive with his forelegs held out to catch him. His talons leave a short, angry trail in the dirt when he lands. One milky white eye scans his surroundings and his head tilts, little clicks of intrigue escaping the depth of his throat. It seems nice enough. His vision settles on the warm outline of a pegasus, a bit shorter than him but interesting enough. He slinks closer and spreads his wings wide in a feral display of dominance.

“You,” he says with a smile that wants to be some kind of warm greeting, but it is all teeth. “You will come to Pangea."

Loess was quiet in the days after the Pangean attack. The silence of so many lives cut short seemed to cast a spell over the canyons and ravines; hardly a sound echoed through them in the months that followed after the flames. Spring had cleansed the land by sending rainstorms to wash away the ashes. Summer cast a golden halo of long, lazy days that encouraged the variety of flora to grow in wild abundance along the streams that cut through the rocky terrain.

And then autumn had come and Tarian had gone.
Winter had followed and Tarian had returned.

He's barely had more than a few days - hardly enough time to stretch his massive wings - to settle before the buckskin lands. Tarian hears the landing. The thing - a dragon he realizes - that emerges has talons where his hooves should be and Tarian can feel his lip start to curl in a sneer as it approaches. The other brute is massive; he is all scales and spikes. The intruder spreads his wings and Tarian starts to unfurl his in instinct.

Tarian decides against fully displaying his feathers. He pulls them in and lifts his head, trying to get a better look at the galaxy-marked horse. The dragon slinks forward and the gray pegasus steps back, attempting to keep distance between them as the pair kicks up red Loessian dust. "I think not," says Tarian. "But you're welcome to stay in Loess." The older stallion grins, full of winter frost and it gleams brightly in his blue eyes. "In pieces, anyway."