As Mazikeen drew closer to foaling, Bolder had begun to think about seeking out his cousin, Malik. He wasn’t sure if the Alpha’s oldest son would be feeling restless, or if he perhaps wanted to stay closer to Hyaline. The chestnut pegasus had no worries over his Aunt; she had brought Malik and Viszla into the world just fine. He doesn’t expect anything different for the arrival of his newest cousin, either.

And there was Firion, now.

But where was Malik?

It had been some time since their hunt of the dragon-bird and now that spring was finally thawing out most of Beqanna’s corners, Bolder was in the mood to explore, to gain more knowledge about the Baltians, to fully stretch out his wings; the warmth spreading throughout the land was revitalizing the striped stallion as well. He had spent most of this early spring - as well as most of the winter - keeping warm by visiting Tephra and soaking in its thermal pools along with the occasional trip to Ischia to sunbathe.

There were a few trips to Hyaline, where he would meet with young Visla and speak with his Aunt, but there was no Malik.

That changes on a day when the seabreeze casts a familiar scent. Bolder had been eyeing the landbridge in the distance - all that remained of Loess - and contemplated another journey to Tephra. What he would do there, he wasn’t entirely sure yet, but the winged creature felt the drive to move. He would have to wait, though. The sun was nearly at its peak, and though Bolder was getting more adept at controlling the shadows that churned beneath his skin, he had no desire to put himself in direct sunlight over an ocean that would only reflect more up at him.

What would happen to him?
Would it cast him completely into shadow, or worse, oblivion?

Shaking his moon-marked face, the wanderer moved through the edge of the forest. Bolder had intended to go deeper where the darkness might conceal him better from the sun, but Malik’s scent nearly struck him. Altering his course, the chestnut followed it towards the sea, where he found the dark stallion brooding. His grey eyes glanced up to see the broken horn, and a mark that hadn’t been there the last time they had met. His sienna-hued nostrils flared, and after briefly looking at the towering griffin, Bolder snorted. He eyed the bird, followed by another questioning glance to Malik, and then prompted by his concern, spoke.

”What the hell happened to you?”

@ Malik

Bolder sometimes got into fights.

Sometimes he lost himself to the wolf and fought for a place in a local pack. Sometimes he became a falcon sitting on a branch, ready to strike out at another for an easy meal. Sometimes he was just merely agitated, and whatever shape he took, he let the frustration out through the smack of a bear’s paw or a leopard’s fierce leap. Sometimes it got him into trouble, and there were a few scars on Bolder’s copper hide that remained as a testament to the few times that he had gotten carried away.

And while Malik was his usual choice for a sparring partner, the scars along his neck aren’t ones that he has placed there. Bolder eyes them with quiet suspicion, but when his cousin doesn’t mention where they come from, he doesn’t prod. He only flicks those slate-gray eyes up inquisitive before glancing back at the water. It laps quietly not far from their hooves, and Bolder considers something while he continues to listen.

It wasn’t like Malik not to be forthcoming. Perhaps not with a direct answer, but then his cousin never usually avoided a direct question. He had wanted to get out of Hyaline for a while, and that Bolder can understand. He does so frequently during the colder seasons, preferring the more tropical climates of Tephra and Ischia to the harsher winter one by the lake.

"Well, why don’t we go down there?” Bolder asks, finally looking up. Mazikeen had said that she wouldn’t mind learning what was down there, if the rumors of Baltians were actually true. He wouldn’t mind learning himself, and after a last glance at Malik over his winged shoulder, he dashed out to the water and disappeared in a splash. A few moments later, a gold-striped swordfish soared over a wave, as if to goad a nearby Malik in.

@ Malik

This is something that feels natural to Bolder. It feels as natural to him as any second-skin he might take, or even the first one that he had been born with. Even as a fish darting beneath the waves and finally diving deeper, swiftly racing through the currents with Malik, this is what natural order feels like to Bolder. It wasn’t like his cousin to hide anything from him – nor would Bolder hide anything from Malik – nor were these sullen moods.

It feels better to leave it behind them.

Bolder admires this shape – it has power and size – and he relishes both turning sharply through what remains of the Loessian rubble. He swims through and over the red-wall craters, down into the ravines before charging up towards the sunlight. The thought of leaping towards the surface propels him up, but the young shifter pauses halfway.

He looks beneath him again, eyeing what had once been the Southern Kingdom. Bolder takes notice of similar things that Malik does (and the thing that worries him most): that there is nothing that might explain why one day it resided above the sea and beneath the next. He listens as his cousin tells him that he had come to Loess once and the shifter begins the descent down towards the sandstone bottom.

”I don’t think so,” Bolder says through a series of air bubbles. He tells Malik about a pair of pegasi he encountered – a gray stallion and his amethyst-eyed daughter – searching for survivors not far from where they had stood. ”But maybe some did,” he clarifies, but the heavy silence that comes after suggests Bolder thinks otherwise.

”Does it look any different to you?” the large fish questions him, angling his pointed sword nose down towards the depths.

@ Malik