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Kitchi Honon was a member of a mighty herd of soquili who inhabited the mountains above the Kawani village. Kaya, his mother, had led their herd for many years and developed a reputation for being both fair and compassionate. When disaster struck the Kawani plains and thick smoke filled the sky, threatening to blot out the sun, Kaya knew she could not stand by idly while so many suffered. She gathered her bravest warriors and strongest workers and set off down the mountain to help fight back the fires and later aide the victims in rebuilding. She asked Kitchi to remain with the main herd, promising that she would only be gone a few weeks and that she would send news of their progress once things had calmed. But weeks passed without a word from his mother and while Kitchi and his herd watched the dancing fires that scorched the plains give way to a dull gray landscape stretching out below them, he could not help but worry about his mother. As weeks turned into months, things began to change in the mountain herd. The adults began to question what happened to their leader and the others, if they had made the trip safely, and more importantly if they were even coming back? It was during this time that Taini, Kitchi’s aunt and Kaya’s younger sister, stepped forward and began organizing the herd in her sister’s absence. For a brief time Kitchi was impressed by Taini’s efforts to unite the herd and ease their fears. But then Taini began forbidding the herd to travel down the mountain and declaring that Kaya had abandoned them. She fed the herd’s paranoia and built up their fears of outsiders, warning them all that the lands of the plains had become a dangerous place full of bandits and marauders. She said that they had been betrayed by the very souls the mountain herd had tried to help and that Kaya had at best abandoned them, at worst betrayed them. When Taini ordered the mountain trails barricaded Kitchi knew he had to act quickly. The stallion had never aspired to be leader himself and feared that any attempts of his own to take control of the herd and bring them back to the path of his mother would only divide them which could be deadly in the harsh mountain environment. So he did the only thing he could think of to both preserve the herd he loved and remain true to his own heart. He ran away.

When darkness blanketed the mountain, Kitchi gathered the few precious possessions he could not bear to leave behind. First was the necklace his mother presented to him when he became an adult of the herd. It was his most cherished possession and represented their homeland with blue beads for the sky that surrounded them, white marked with brown – the snow dappled tops of their home, and in the very center a large stone pendant with an angled spiral. The symbol represented the path of life, how it was ongoing but you might just hit an unexpected twist. The last few weeks had certainly been unexpected and they managed to twist him all up in knots. He also grabbed his armband. It might not be especially helpful on his journey, but the bear claws that lined its base were a mark of his strength as a warrior along with the teeth that adorned his necklace. Protecting the herd had been his primary responsibility and these items embodied his spirit, that of a brave bear. Though it went against his very soul to abandon his people, he knew he would only cause them pain if he remained. He could never tolerate such slander against his mother nor could he carry on without knowing what had happened to her and their other herdmates. He packed light to ensure that nothing would slow him down on his journey, his heart would bear more than enough weight for him.

As Kitchi eased his way down the mountain he told himself this wasn’t the end. The lie rang hollow even within his own mind, but he pressed on, his hoofs finding familiar footholds along the path. He could easily maneuver around the beginnings of the blockades and as he made his way down the mountain he spared a single look back at what had always been his home. He would miss the brisk breeze that came from the great heights and the crisp, cool water that flowed from the springs. But this expedition was an opportunity – a chance at a life he never could have known before. Thus Kitchi vowed to make his journey worthwhile. He would offer aid to those in need, lend his strength and his skill to defend those who could not defend themselves, and of course he would seek out his mother and discover what had become of the matron of the mountains. And maybe along the way, he could find a way to be happy again with this new chance at life in a new and uncertain land.

Death is not the end.

Elchron wandered the land of Soquili. It was a land he thought was gone. Dead. But now it was teeming with new life. He was pleased.

Although the old unicorn was nearing his own end of days, he still took joy in all the foals and laughter around him. He couldn't stop time. Time was his master. It was everyone's master. Even the life inside of all the new baskets would be snuffed out eventually. There was no point in lamenting it. It was just the way it was. Elchron was not upset by the thought of death; his or anyone else's.

But for the time being, he took in the simple joys around him. He observed. He kept a keen eye on all the rebirth around him. Time would tell how they would turn out. Would these Soquili work towards bringing good to the world? Or would the darken it? It's their choice to make.

Eventually, time and death catch up with us all.

You can't stop it. All you can do not let the moments you have pass you by.

From the ashes of our past…

Time was running out, thick clouds of ash blacked out the sun, while burning rocks fell from the sky, obliterating everything they touched. Screams filled the air, there was no hope, no chance to flee, there was no warning of the death that was now upon them and most of all there was nothing but despair.

For a group of Mares in the secret society of Annu, the fiery death was known and they had been preparing for this ominous day. They worked arduously to prepare the maiden mare to leave the burning land. Cassia of Annu was the last Keeper of the Flame, she was the priestess who was destined to leave a land razed and come out reborn like the Phoenix the Keepers hold dear.

Since her birth it was known that she would be the survivor and the one to carry the knowledge across the sea for she bore the mark of the Phoenix. Her mane was fiery and her tail comprised of feathers ranging in colors of the sacred flame. Her suti wings were black like the ash after a burned out fire and her eyes held the intense spark of knowledge.

Lessons ensued, each mare taught her all that she knew and passed on her story. The priestesses of Annu were known as the keepers of the flame. The flame was not an actual palpable entity, it was knowledge, a spark of hope, the cycle of the Phoenix, which showed that even with the world burning and turning to ash, there would be rebirth. Life comes from the darkest of hours, from the most desolate of places, it was a lesson that the maiden had to learn and understand. Years passed, and yet the end still had not arrived, many were wondering if the prophecy was wrong. It was when the Keepers began to hope for life that the volcano erupted, signifying the end of their world and the fulfillment of the prophecy.

The final hours were upon them, death was coming to those who did not flee. It was their fate to be turned to stone by the falling fiery ash of the volcano, forever encased in the cycle of the Phoenix.
Cassia had her head bowed in prayer when the shaking of the ground began. It was time to face her destiny, time to accept her responsibility, if only it did not come with such a price. The older priestesses came to her then; the ceremony was quick, for there was no time. They bestowed upon her the Sun Disc tied with a string to wear around her neck, it represented the fiery spirit of the Phoenix deity that was dear to the hearts of the Annu, upon her brow they placed the mask of the phoenix, to allow the world to know that Cassia was the only surviving Priestess of the Scared Flame and lastly a bracelet made of lava rock extracted from the same volcano destined to raze the Annu.

Without saying goodbye, she took to the sky, dodging rocks as they fell. Not once did she cast her gaze behind her. Her eyes were locked on the vast blue sea before her. Her heart was filled with sadness, but she knew that from death and destruction, rebirth takes form from the ashes and brings in the dawn of a new day.

…Comes the birth of our future.

He trotted quietly along, the glow from his lantern and the gems upon the skull around his neck as well as the ones on his legs providing the only light he could navigate with. The moon was deeply hidden behind the clouds and a cool breeze was slowly beginning to pick up in force. A storm perhaps? Phantomhive wasn't so sure. His hoofbeats slowed to a stop as his ears perked up. There wasn't any discernable sound, but his coat prickled and there was a sense of something out there. The stallion shivered slightly, flicking his tail up a bit higher.

"H-Hello?" He called softly, afraid to spook whatever might be there. A stronger gust of wind toyed with a strand of his mane. Almost as if tugging him towards the east. Phantomhive glanced in that direction, a frown creasing his face.

"Is... someone out there?" Again he called softly, but no response came. Still... he began walking towards the east. The Kawani lands were that direction, he thought. Lands he had been intending to travel to. Word had reached his small herd of 'Guides', whispers of a great battle taking place. There would be many lost ones that needed to be shown a way beyond. Phantomhive had volunteered to go. To leave his home land and travel to a new place.

The wind tugged at him again, making him shiver and a more confident pace enter his steps. Yes. This felt right. Perhaps there was a lost soul out this far that needed guidance back to the Kawani land?

"I will lead you." He murmured with a small smile, never knowing for sure if something followed or not. It was just a sense of 'right' to him. "I'll take you home. And then you may one day run through the fields again." Such was his belief. A soul that never returned home would be lost forever. But a soul that was shown the way could one day rise again anew, and begin a brand new journey in life. That was their way, the way of the Guides.

A tale exists, told throughout the native tribes, of a fiery mare that roams the lands leaving nothing but char in her wake.

---

"Many moons ago, a filly was born, rare in color and magic of horn. She was a treasure to the Chief as her presence brought forth the birth of his own daughter. The filly and child were raised side by side, never straying far from the other. With each rising sun and setting moon the pair grew strong, healthy and brave. The filly became a beautiful mare with a bright coat and golden horn. At her side remained the chief's daughter, now a young woman but the youth and joy in her soul never left.

Soon word of the horned mare spread through the land, many seeking the tribe out to call upon her magic. Magic she used to heal the wounded and the sick. As word of the mare spread, word of the Chief's daughter passed over the winds with it. Brave warriors began to appear bringing their protection and trade goods from the far lands. Each aimed to take the daughter's hand in marriage and each was denied by the protection of the mare.

For you see, the mare saw no good will within any of these travelers."

The tribal Elder fell silent for what seemed an eternity. Wide-eyed children stared in wonder, eager to hear more of the story at hand. Old, gray eyes fell upon the Chief's daughter as the Elder continued.

"As a new year began, a new warrior arrived before the feet of the chief. He offered rare pelts, not unlike those of the prized mare. The chief, insulted by the offering, refused the warrior and sent him away. For to the Chief, such precious fur was akin to slaying the tribal treasure.

The young warrior was insulted in turn by the denial and, as night fell, he razed the village."

The Elder's hand shook as he threw a shimmering powder into the pit. The fire roared hot and dangerous, sending embers high into the night sky. Many shrank away from the blaze, while others seemed to move closer to hear more.

"The fire burned through the night, reducing the village to ash. The warrior gazed upon the charred ground and as quickly as he appeared in the village, he left. As the new sun rose, life stirred from beneath the remains of the once thriving tribe. The figure of the mare stood, gazing at the empty land before her. The once shining coat now as dark as the razed land beneath her feet. The orange and red of the fire rising up her legs and covering her heart.

The horn upon her head no longer shimmered, the ash of the fire having turned it as black as night. An attempt to shake her tail free of the debris revealed flame touched plummage. With each new step, the mare felt a weight falling from her back. In her wake lay several dark feathers, each from the wings that now graced her form."

Once more the Elder tossed a powder over the fire, this time reducing it to no more than several hot coals.

"Her dark eyes searched the land and found nothing but loss. The strange warrior had taken everything the mare loved in a single night. The mare began to travel the lands in search of the warrior that took the life of the Chief's daughter that she had cared so deeply for. With each village she came upon that showed greed, fire quickly spread and disappeared leaving loss for the tribes.

The mare never found the warrior and still searches with each sun and moon. She continues to burn the land, taking life and watching tribes rebuild and learn from their losses. As new villages appeared across the land they brought with them renewed life and respect for every sacred creature."

Charging waves of horse and man crashed like the tides, beating sword and spear against one another. Following his rider's commands, he continued waging war until the searing pain of a spear hit him square in the chest and all went dark. Hooves beat against the bark of the great Ash Tree, tangling with the darker limbs. Nearing the rooms, he slammed his feet into the trunk and refused to fall further. There was still more to do, more to see, he would not go now. For moments that seemed like hours, he waited for either his knees to give or a side from the all father. Just as his will was about to give, a tickling of feathers shot from his back and he felt the grasp lighten and he began the climb. It was not easy, but he felt his mark imbed and break with every step. White branches began to come into view and soon he saw midgard once more. While he knew he had the strength to continue on and join other great stallions in Valhalla, he knew his duty called him to save the ones who rode into battle with him. With newfound wings and a few snapped branches from Yggdrasil, Erik burst through the earth and soared like the horses of the Valkeries, continuing the role he was meant to do.

Renacido always knew this day would come. The day when he was to go out into the wild and become a stallion in the eyes of the herd. His herd was very traditional in the sense that there was a rite of passage for all stallions in the herd. There was a seperate rite of passage for mares, but he wasn't sure how that tradition actually went on, being a stallion himself. He did know that whether they were a mare or a stallion, they came back with something from their journey. The most traditional were stones and shells, but some of the braver came back with feathers. The feathers of peacocks. They were in the opposite direction of where most traveled. In the deepest woods near some rather ruthless Kalona.

Renacido knew that that was the direction he wanted to go. Not only because it was the path for the brave, but he also believed that the feathers were perfect for him. Something that would go wonderfully with his fur. He saw very few other with the beautiful feathers. The blues and teals was something he loved.

Renacido walked over to the start of the path. He knew that there was much hardship on the road ahead, but he knew that he could acheive what he wanted to do as well.

A few weeks later, Renacido returned. He walked into the small herds territory. Feeling a better sense of himself and who he was, he walked with a sense of pride. Holding in his bag, he had several beautiful feathers to pin to himself. He also carried with him a scar. A scar that held the story of his journey's end...