Southward (Casriel)

The wind whipped coldly over Casriel and she bent closer over her cobalt's neck, glad for her fur lined riding jacket. Maraxith's hide was dark and soaked up the sun, radiating a spicy warmth that seemed to seep into all the cracks and fissures of her wounded pride and fury, filling them to seamless closure like molten metal poured from a crucible. That was Maraxith, the solid and strong presence in her mind that soothed her.

[[What do you see, Maraxith?]] Casriel asked.

A long, cool river. Flat lands were beasts may eat grass and fatten for our own feasting. Higher, I see rocky outcroppings that would make good ledges, many east facing to catch the warm, rising sun.

[[Take me over there.]] and Casriel pictured the highest stony peak, something that might make a good fire heights if it was stable and level enough. Maraxith rumbled his agreement and checked his plum dark wings, winging over to the area his rider had indicated. It took him a minute to find an area wide enough for him to stand relaxed.

[[Easy, my dark one.]] Casriel cautioned.