Warstorm smiles, watching the mare prance about in excitement. Her brightness is contagious, and the painted pegasus dances a bit in place, ears up and tail flagged out slightly. It's nice to find someone friendly, and so quickly. Being in a new land is intimidating.
She nickers and looks at her wings, spreading them just enough. "I've never seen wings attached any other way," she replies. "My father looks alot like me. Well, I look alot like him, actually. He has big pretty wings and antlers too, but he's kind of stuffy. He's around here somewhere, I'm sure."
Warstorm imagines what it would be like to be a bird, soaring effortlessly in the wind. Big wings and alot of muscle do help, but no matter what, flight is always a bit of a workout for someone the size of a horse. It will never come as naturally to a pegasus as it does to a dove. The painted mare sighs wistfully. "I'd spend my entire life on the wind if I could, but flying is hungry work. I have to come down to eat and rest."
WARSTORM
where the skies end
