No Time for Lies and Empty Fights
He had been dealt another night shift.
After a few brief hours of rest through the evening, Hector stirred beneath the deep shadow of two intertwined mimosas. One after the other he stretched each long limb out, and shook heavily the stiffness of sleep from his body - pluming dust rising invisibly around him. Lips lowered afterward to fondle the strings of ivory mane slumped between the sleeping child’s ears. Though he longer always for duty, the days since Isara had returned to her home had given him a new perspective; one which he had neither expected nor fancied. His fondness was true however, and a fierce devotion was blossoming that had nary existed after the loss of his blood-children with Daenerys.
Quiet words were imparted so as not to disturb her rest, I will be home soon, before Hector turned his thoughts to his bonded Boggart. Do not leave her, Veci, he warned sternly, and watched as the thin ripple of his form (invisible to all else) settled sullenly by Isara.
The tawny giant slipped away through the mid-island shrubbery – that which before the girl, he had never thought to bed between, and when finally the oasis foliage had given way to miles of blistering sand, he lunged forward into a brisk gallop. It was intention to rouse groggy muscles to life; to stretch lazy ligaments and work a thick foaming sweat into his coat, and he often multitasked as such, because the night duty was oftentimes long and uneventful. A sprinted solidly for a long while, driving ever faster though each breath grew harder and harder - no pain, no gain... no pain, no gain he chanted silently to the rhythm of his drumming hooves, and only as the stench of the brackish coastal air grew too pungent did he thrust apart his phenomenal wingspan to fly.
His hulking mass drew gradually towards the clear heavens, and the playful wink of distant stars welcomed him nearer. Hector had been set the task of patrolling the far west coast, and though he might have liked to take young Isara, a journey by foot would have just taken too long.
As expected, he arrived upon the soft slippery white sand of the Endless Blue after midnight – sweat gleaming as the pale sliver of moon shed insignificant light upon him, and Hector snorted a thick spray of spittle into the ocean wind. Flame-red eyes scanned north curiously, and then south; body twisting above the cool terrain for a better view. At first glance, all seemed relatively quiet and he moved down nearer to the crashing waves.
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