Constant noise assaulted pale golden listeners, a hum of life and excitement, unburdened by the sinking sun and the chill of winter’s promising breath on their napes. A creature far more appreciative of selective company, Kaj was reluctant to visit the bustling Island, to submerge himself in the erratic heartbeat of the area. This was Kahlua’s area of expertise, mingling and delighting in the companionship and amiable smiles that seemed ubiquitous on the faces of all those visiting the magically crafted area. The King shuddered to imagine how he must appear, shying away and offering muttered excuses to evade such constant euphoria. Kaj was no “downer” (was that the proper phrase? Evangeline was a dedicated teacher, but Kaj did not quite grasp her lessons) and certainly he was joyous in the face of peaceful times…but as a King, as a ruler, he was not so easily swayed and blinded. Peace did not last. It never did. And it ached at his limbs, in the marrow of his structure, until he was forced to turn away from the revelry to ease his frustrations and soothe his worried mind.

It was one such moment that led to his inevitable flight to the battle sands of the central portions of the Island. Retreating from the hubbub to find solitude, peace of mind, perhaps even a stretch of muscles to limber up and ease the stress through physical release. Only, as pale blues lifted to the horizon, beyond the gossamer clouds of his breath in the cold air, Kaj realized he was not as isolated as he had formerly hoped. Snorting out through warm nares, the stallion descended into the pit, thick haunches stilted on the malleable substance and wings shuffling to chase away the cold clinging to his golden skin. Bronze markings of the unicorn before him were an eerie, enticing glow in the faded light, the only striking color aside the intermittent rosy blossoms that drifted like lost ships on the sands guided by wistful zephyrs. A brother in arms, perhaps? He smelled of the Aurora crowd, only overcome by the odd twist of…iron? It was something metallic, perhaps even oily? But with Illynx and her flock attending the Moon Ceremony, Kaj certainly recognized the herd affiliation on the stallion’s skin. Their herds were aligned, peaceful. Perhaps he was willing to spar with the foolish King?

Wings flared in inviting display, hooves sinking in oddly cool sand, a silent beckoning of battle. They are fairly matched, of strong build and honed muscle, but the lad is certainly of lighter feet from the view of things. A fair game could be played, should the stag accept his challenge. A dusk dance of exotic breeds, the sun and the moon dancing in their skins. Kaj just wanted to forget a few hours more.