Tembovu

Black nostrils flare, scenting the evening’s air as the King meandered the Edge’s borders. Mbwene trunk, likewise, lifted as she took in the air. The night smelled of crisp frost that nearly stung the nose numb—but also a faint smell of others. One was familiar: Tilney, the good Moon Doctor. His black-rimmed ears swiveled forward, his hooves halting in the crunchy snow (it had been a day since any powder had fallen; but tonight was promising, as the temperature began to steeply drop with the setting sun) so that he could better hear the faint voices that filtered between the barren trunks. Only the evergreens, so aptly named, nobly retained their deep green needles.

The Elephant could make out a few words: joining…Edge…Moon…. These all came from Tilney, interspersed with statements and lilting, questioning tones. The next set: beautiful…life…religion, came from another, unfamiliar voice and scent, only to be punctuated by the sharp coo of Peatree, Tilney’s faithful companion. A slight grin curved up the King’s lips as he started towards the others, his thick legs moving at an easy walk as his large hooves crunched loudly in the snow. He would be sneaking up on no one tonight—not that a man of his size ever, truly snuck up on anyone.

His ears remained perked, though much of the remainder of conversation was lost to the crunch of his hooves. Only the tail end of the newcomer’s proclamation to be interested in healing was caught by the towering King as he finally came upon the antlered man and his curled-horn companion. His thick, loosely spiraled horn dipped in greeting as he slowed to a stop, “Hello, my friend,” his deep voice rumbled to Tilney before his eyes and attention shifted to the newcomer.

“I am Tembovu, King here. If you seek learning in the art of healing, you’ll need to look no further than Tilney. He is one of the finest healers in all of Helovia. The Edge is better for him,” though his words were complimentary, there was only genuineness in the heartfelt praise. Though his dark gaze studied the woman as he spoke taking in her bright amber eyes and the warm accent of her brown mane and tail against the sunny grey of her skin. And her horns—they caught is gaze for a moment longer than anything else, eyes following their curling sweep.

“Are you looking to make the Edge your home….?” His deep rumble trailed off, implying his inquiry for her name. Mbwene was even more captivated by the woman’s horns, and she trundled forward (first tooting hello to Tilney), her trunk outstretched and seeking the mare’s curled horns.