The Elephant King cannot help but grin in reply to Arah’s musical laugh, though his attention is drawn to the approaching Oizys before he can reply to the graceful Sage. His grin falters slightly, a brow raising in surprise, at the cold and narrowed look of the filly. Navy eyes stare long and hard at the foal, thoughts trickling through his mind: such foals had a hard start to life, nearly eaten alive by vultures. Perhaps they needed guidance? His lips purse slightly.

As if fate wished to highlight the darkness of the orphaned filly, Laume appeared with her brightly fluttering wings and even brighter eyes— playfully flitting after Mbwene before running squarely into Tembovu’s hind leg. The King’s gaze, clouded by Oizys, cleared and warmed with humor, “Hello, little Laume,” his low rumble was laced with mirth.

Navy eyes shift to the smaller of the orphaned twins, who acted with grace unbefitting a child of so horrendous a start to life. Her smile is wide, her gleeful giggling against her sister’s pelt exuberant— almost overdone. Yet she is but a filly, still learning proper use of her legs, let alone properly situating into herself. So the King, after a nod of greeting and long, watchful look, dismisses the girl’s antics, turning to Ros as the stocky mare abruptly appears beside him.

A head cocked at her sudden backtrack, surprised that the outspoken and frank mare would question her welcome in the Edge— though he is saved from having to answer her as Arah spoke her words of welcome to the demigod. Tembovu merely nodded his great head in agreement, leaning his shoulder towards Ros’s in assurance, before turning his attention towards Raeden and Tin. Black lips part in a grin, “Raeden, Tin,” his greeting is simple. Mbwene’s is more exuberant— after eyeing the little filly who came so close to her and nosing around Ros for Chico, she trumpeted hello to the brightly colored cerndyr.

But silence fell as Arah’s musical voice takes a serious note. Navy eyes sweep to the delicate doe, watching and aptly listening as a tale of war fell from her lips. Though the Elephant knew vaguely of such things from Mauja, the sombre face of the Sage (the emotion in her words) gave a different meaning, a new weight, to the facts he had been told in passing conversation.

It was all to close to the King’s soul.

Ears tip back, though his darkening gaze does not leave Arah. So this what the aftershocks of fallen lands looked like. He had fled (coward). He had not faced the fall of Dorobo after causing it. The mention of Thranduil, the man who changed faces, caused another shadow to cross over the King’s face. The Laurelin knew him, knew the Edge, and had been within the herdlands. Unease trickled into his chest.

At the mention of a man betraying the Falls, his mind turns to Elsa— was that her old lover? The father to her children. To her other children, for he had a son with her now. More unease entered his chest— he could not let another betray the Queen; even himself.

His brows swept up as Arah revealed that she entered the battle, eyes darting to the delicate armor that glimmered beside her. He had not known Arah to fight— he did not pin the elegant woman as a warrior. But, he knew, anyone could turn tooth and hoof if given the write provocation.

As the Sage’s words dwindled, the giant found many questions boiling in his mind— but all of them were war-related, about tactics and strategies. Not questions to be asked in a foals’ lesson; nor did he know if Arah knew the answers. So the King’s lips remained shut, instead inwardly dwelling on the dark thoughts that pervaded his mind.