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Hector shifted uneasily, none too pleased with the situation Veci had forced upon them. The wisp crowed mutely, amused indeed, curling his breath-like body around the long, strapping legs of the burning-red chestnut. The stallion could not see his companion, nor feel or hear the hilarity churning within, but he knew well the mischief driving his intricate mind and condemned it wholeheartedly with a brisk, unimpressed stamp of his large round hoof. The copper mare’s eyes had by then dropped, and his warm, sweat-flecked coat flinched in response to the building uncertainty through his socially inept core. He knew not really how to act, so he bristled like he might once, when confronted by Kri the Resolute or the like. As he watched, the lines strained through the mare’s fine canvas had begun gradually to ease; to relax a little, and it made the whole circumstances
a little less fraught. She nodded after his piece, and he shifted, unsure how his thoughtful but rather unorthodox gesture might be taken.
It seemed not so well.
To Hector’s disappointment, his company began to retreat, even if the step taken had been so small. Her expression seemed now tarnished with a hint of uneasiness and immediately, and hesitatingly- not at all wishing to compromise her, he withdrew still farther. Fluttering nostrils betrayed his dismay, but he was a simple mind only beginning a life where forward thinking was more important than brute strength. The long leonine tail to his rear snapped uncomfortably through the gentle breeze. The owl spoke, spreading apart his golden-brown wings to rise upon the updraft sailing by them. Nearby, Veci watched the creature circle the two horses with growing interest, but he stayed put obediently.
At last she spoke, and simultaneously, the breath which had unknowingly been held was purged by the tri-bred’s lungs. It was not the graciously accepting response he supposed might follow, but he was hardly surprised by the rejection- she appeared not the type who sought refuge so rashly. Her bright blue eyes held a confidence that was both commanding and sure, and Hector found himself lost to them; wondering what reason caused her to be so homeless, wandering the forest alone. Regardless, the tawny creature nodded slowly, respecting the sensibility of her reaction. For that reason he remained still where he had pulled back to.
"The country is Helovia. You are standing in the Threshold." he offered soon after her next question, and offered an amiable smile in return for her own.
"I am Hector, a soldier from Dragon’s Throat. We occupy the southernmost peninsula... he gestured towards the direction of his home, rustling in unison the wings folded tight against each flank.
...We are a peaceful herd, and follow the God of the Sun; of light and warmth. He is a merciful lord who has watched over us well." Hector thought not so early to introduce the dynamics of his home, nor the Sultana’s who led them. He knew well that treason was ripe through Helovia and was shrewd enough not to indulge any stranger with information that was unnecessary. Still he smiled, openly and civilly, but the warrior was already feeling the weight of his first social endeavour.
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You're the King, and I'm the Lionheart
