.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
graasvoel
The roaned woman was distracted by her duties—and the vulture knew that a busy woman would not take kindly to having a single-minded male interrupt her and a attempt to whisk her away to make the afternoon’s heat more enjoyable. He'd be more likely to have a hoof solidly land in his face than to have himself solidly land anywhere.
So, marking the woman to memory for future potential escapades, once the eventful meeting was finished he turned to follow the direction in which the smaller, striped man had fled. His interest was piqued—though he was surprised that he was turning his back on a woman to follow a man. What was Helovia doing to him?
Ah well, his feathered hooves carried him into the trees once again, leaving the mass of equines behind him. He hadn’t realized how large the Edge’s herd was, nor how many Dorobians called the place its home. The Elephant King was impressive, to be certain. But how had he inspired those he led? Perhaps it was the judgmental Korofi in him that scorned the Plainsborne (or at least the men of the plains).
“Hallo? Hiënajie?” His gruff voice called into the marginally cooler shadows. Pale nostrils flare, trying to take in the Doroboian’s distinct scent, but the mists weighed down the humid air, making any and all odors a sodden, mixed mess.
He sighed as his remarkably sharp eyes glared into the gloom around him, searching. For a man. A small, striped man meant to camouflage with a coat like that. What was the vulture doing? His massive wings rustled once, before tucking tightly into his sides so that his great bulk would fit more easily between the trees.
Hallo? Hiënajie? = Hello? Little hyena?
So, marking the woman to memory for future potential escapades, once the eventful meeting was finished he turned to follow the direction in which the smaller, striped man had fled. His interest was piqued—though he was surprised that he was turning his back on a woman to follow a man. What was Helovia doing to him?
Ah well, his feathered hooves carried him into the trees once again, leaving the mass of equines behind him. He hadn’t realized how large the Edge’s herd was, nor how many Dorobians called the place its home. The Elephant King was impressive, to be certain. But how had he inspired those he led? Perhaps it was the judgmental Korofi in him that scorned the Plainsborne (or at least the men of the plains).
“Hallo? Hiënajie?” His gruff voice called into the marginally cooler shadows. Pale nostrils flare, trying to take in the Doroboian’s distinct scent, but the mists weighed down the humid air, making any and all odors a sodden, mixed mess.
He sighed as his remarkably sharp eyes glared into the gloom around him, searching. For a man. A small, striped man meant to camouflage with a coat like that. What was the vulture doing? His massive wings rustled once, before tucking tightly into his sides so that his great bulk would fit more easily between the trees.
Hallo? Hiënajie? = Hello? Little hyena?
@Imani post meeting!
Please tag Graasvoel in all posts.
