So, with a soft shake of his head to rid himself of any lingering uneasiness, a lopsided grin replaces the shadows of a frown that clung to his ivory, black-masked face. “I would offer any Doroboian who denounced the Makutano a home in my herd. Provided that they give me their name,” his tone was open and genuine, even as he gently prodded the other for manners and introductions. But there was an undercurrent of seriousness in his words; a promise that any who had supported the tyrants of Dorobo would meet the sharp and colossal monstrosity of his horn.
“As for spirits, I think you’ll find that Helovia has far more powerful forces that work through it’s soil and inhabitants. Magic still lives here, much of it,” his voice grew warmly amused as Mbwene, who had tottered behind him investigating the different flora of the Threshold, suddenly burst out from the trees. Not to be superseded by magic, the small elephant trumpeted a greeting to both seal-skinned and striped equines. Though, naturally, she was drawn to the one of the plains, echoes of instinct luring her towards the one of odd-eyes.
“Companions, as well, exist here. This is Mbwene,” his great horn dipped towards his elephant, just as her ears flapped and trunk raised up in greeting.
@Imani