Daddy, I'm alone, 'cause this house don't feel like home

Death ... well. It wasn't what you think it would be. Gaucho had always believed that his death would result in the ascension of his soul to the great plains in the sky, where food would always be plentiful and his muscles would never tire. But even such a nirvana as basic as that wasn't what was waiting for the Wildfire when his flame finally died out. But that is a story for another time. On this night Gaucho found his soul not in its usual place, but tethered to something that for once felt firm and tangible. Eyes the colour of storm clouds just before a downpour over the ocean surveyed a desert-scape that sparked no recognition in his primal, but intelligent mind. Around his neck a serpent coiled herself, unworried about this change in scenery given that this new land was warm and kept her body at an appropriate temperature. Cheery as ever, the small pheonix who flittered near his antlers offered a small trill of trepidation but, given that she had died once already, was not all that bothered. Moving with an odd grace for a creature so large and bulky, Gaucho followed a pathway that seemed to lead directly into the setting sun. He thought perhaps he might glide away into the fiery blaze and see what might become of this bizarre reality, when his mind suddenly stuttered. "Gaucho know this place.." He said to the companions whose minds, though no longer tethered, still remained closely attached to his own. "Crocodile?" The Wildfire murmured almost rhetorically, for neither Vorsa or Mara could reply in his mind anymore. But yes, they seemed to agree, Crocodile seemed right. Had this been a place ... ..in Helovia? Had .. had he killed someone here? A scene of fire and illusory magic burst into his mind, but was veiled by the remnants of his death. Memories were slippery things, once you had died. A glint caught his attention - what he thought might have been a spark - and in the hush of the setting sun pulled his gaze towards it. This memory needed no prompting, but instead immediately entered into his mind. Iskra. The word bloomed like the cactus' of the Throat so long ago, and immediately the dun began to move towards the boy (for all of Gaucho's children would remain children in his mind, despite how large they grew). Just as distant as he had always been, Gaucho had perhaps been a better Father once he no longer lingered on the earth than he ever had in life. In death Gaucho had the opportunity to watch over his kin, even if he could not be with them. With flaming wings at his sides, the Wildfire advanced, waiting until he was only a handful of feet away before calling out.  "Iskra." It was not a question, but a command of sorts. The Wildfire's voice was a low and reedy barritone that rumbled with the same volume and bass of an earthquake. Gaucho the Wildfire If this is to end in fire Then we should all burn together