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Tembovu the Elephant King
Tembovu’s navy gaze, already sharply trained on the the pearlescent filly, caught the tight tuck of her wings into her sides as she answered his question. Or, perhaps, avoided answering him by giving vague non-answers. And, he noted the loss of her gaze as she spoke—causing his own eyes to crease. Then off she started to walk, dismissing this conversation before it even began. “Erthe,” his rumble was low, deep, and (for the first time with the
“How often do you take it, Erthe?” He repeated his question again, trying to take the edge out of his voice and softening it to a request. But it was not a request—for his mind was replaying the stricken look in his mother’s grey eyes. Kajifu, the ‘stern grey’, had lost the strength in her eyes that day. He had been but a colt, but perhaps that made him all the more perceptive of his dam’s eyes. They had been the harbingers of reward or punishment, so he had learned to read them well.
Concern laced through his demanding features—revealing the truth beneath his insistence. He did not wish to find the young mare’s body still, lifeless, and matching the death-cold skin she already bore. Nor did he wish to be told of anyone finding her drowned in the milky white sap that promised more euphoria than the body could take—and so it expired in the highs.
So he waited, silent and still, for her answer.
@Erthë!
Please tag Tembovu.
