only the dead have seen the end of war

Ros’s exit from the meeting was not stealthy. She did not quietly slip away to go search for Mauja. She left in a blur of electrical energy, leaving Chico a flapping, perplexed, indignant mess in her wake. The King’s sad navy eyes had followed her, quiet curiosity piquing in his mind at the gesture; Ros had spoken of Mauja (—Lee, to her—) before she had left. It had been an interesting conversation, filled with unasked questions and even fewer answers. But Roskuld had still left, despite Mauja asking her to stay. He had been there, he had seen it that first day of Birdsong.

As King, he stayed alongside his Queen through the end of the meeting, thus leaving him far behind Roskuld’s rapid delving into a searching mission. And it was Chico (with no small amount of condolences from Mbwene), who alerted the stallion as to where Ros had aimed to begin her searches. The North? Again? It seemed that, even with his lover now residing in the Edge with him, the man would never be rid of traveling the frigid mountains.

So, with closing the meeting, waiting for Mbwene to finish molesting ‘consoling’ Chico, and having to travel via hoof, he was very far behind the search party that scoured the permanently frozen Steppe. Navy eyes peered across the bright expanse of permafrost, squinting slightly against the glare— there. There were bodies.

He broke into an easy (but snow-shaking) lope, immensely glad that Mbwene had stayed in the Edge as her small limbs would have led to much mental grumbling through their bond. As it was, his massive stride made quick work of the cold distance that stretched between him and the others.

Perked ears caught the tail end of Ros’s words, ”Mesec was gonna sniff him out for us, so keep up.” But, while his ears caught the Sparklight’s words, his gaze remained trained on the Nightwind. His eyes were wide, brows drawn and creased as he slowed to a stop, some distance away from the gigantic wolf whose maw was sampling and searching the chilly winds.

“Mesec?” His low rumble was wary and disbelieving. Part of him wished to challenge the man to prove it was, in fact, the father he had just welcomed in to the Edge. But another part of him—the part that won out—heard and understood the terse urgency in Ros’s word’s and actions. So, with taunt hide and creased eyes, he warily followed the search party as a large and looming shadow.

Tembovu

the elephant king