brennen, amet, iset;

[Amet]

if there's a light at the end, it's just the sun in your eyes

He is hidden beneath the sweeping boughs of his Wisteria tree, amber eyes looking over the misty lake from the eastern side. It's peaceful today and Amet wonders if his companions are still sleeping, or if they've gone off to explore for the day. Moving from beneath the lavender blooms, the bronze and gold dragon-boy picks his way closer to the crystalline waters. Crescent-shaped hooves step into the Lake and the Akhal-Teke moves deeper until his lanky, coltish legs are hidden and the waters lap gently at his plated belly.

The fog is not a dense one, swirling out of Amet's way as he pivots and begins to move parallel to the shoreline. His steps are leisurely, un-rushed for the first time in a long, long time. It's hard, on occasion, to keep himself from thinking about Him. About Sakir. But when he is able to bury his worries in a deep, dark corner, the Akhal-Teke is able to relax more in this new place than he ever was able to in the Dunes.

That's not to say, however, that he does not have his demons.

A tentative call rings through the crisp air suddenly and the almost-stallion, who will finally be considered an adult at the turn of the next season, immediately amends his route and heads in the direction of the whinny. The morning sun glints impressively across his gilded scales, but fail to reach his lithe frame each time he weaves between his purple Wisteria and pink Cherry trees. Approaching the hill crest, Amet's amber eyes find the shapes of a painted mare and her winged child, just on the other side of the clearing. He gives them a polite smile, though his amber eyes may betray his hesitation, as he nears them.

The colt opens his maw to greet them just as his flaring nostrils catch their briny scent. It takes him a moment, but when he realizes where else he has smelled the salty ocean, he can only assume that this is the Queen they had been waiting for. "Nayl," he says quietly as he bows his narrow head to her, "I am Amet. Welcome to the Lake."

The winged colt beside the painted lady, whose eyes are bright with excitement, reminds him of Sakir and a warm pang fills his chest. Extending his neck to motion to the boy's feathered appendages, Amet gives him a wink, "Cool wings!"

Amet