The images, sounds, words—they were all distorted through Mbwene’s eyes. She didn’t quite understand all that was going on. She didn’t entirely understand all the words that were exchanged. But she understood the body language—that the little matriarch could read quite well. And so she urgently pushed what she saw to her bonded—the King was slowly returning from the Veins of the Gods. There was nothing good coming from this gather of Edgers—at least to her bright blue eyes. Nor from the two shouting, fighting, bleeding creatures on the cliffs.

—‘do—gamble?’—‘—aeden…weapons…’—‘shit…fucking—re-fucking-illy?’— (these words stood out, as they were spoken by…Mauja?) —‘hurt’— (a younger, hurt voice, shaded blue in Mbwene’s vision)

It was not until the image of a golden man pushing the beautiful Raeden towards the cliffs. Was that Toulouse? The image was quite distorted Mbwene’s uncertain, anxious eyes. But it was enough to make the King’s limbs strike out quickly on the earth. They were close enough to the Edge’s borders that his children would be kept safe by the mists and scouts.

Ivory hooves shook the earth as he pounded forward; narrowly missing branches in the fog as Mbwene continued to send flashes of images and snippets of words. A bay pegasus swooping beneath the cliffs; Aji’s proudly arrogant face; Arah enveloping Gawn; Iona’s cold face—

—And then the King was there. It was the end of the battle, Toulouse apparently the victor. There was something strange that stirred in his gut. Disapproval at the man nearly shoving Raeden off the cliffs; attempts to murder fellow herd mates would not be allowed in the Edge. No stakes were high enough within the herdlands for that. But the Elephant King knew of the snake’s predilections; he knew that sharp horns has cut where no sharp horns were meant to be near on a stallion…

So there was something in him—some sort of pity—that held his tongue for a few moments as his navy gaze roved over all those assembled. But his gaze—there was not silencing the sharp slice of that. Though it gentled as it landed on the distressed Gawen. He nickered softly, deeply, to the spotted boy, before raising his head to find Lyanna, Mauja, Iona and Toulouse gathered apart from the group.

A snort passed his nostrils as he approached them.