Mbwene stood in the misted shadows, bright eyes staring. A frown creased her brown and her wrinkled lips were pressed together. But not in anger. Nor disapproval. But in sadness. Melancholic blues watched the loving, sweet, tender moments between Edgar and another zephyr… Edgar had been her friend once. He had known her as a small, newly hatched calf—when all the world was her bonded’s anger and darkness. Edgar had been there for her (just as Elsa had been there for Tembovu); a friend. A calm rock in the sea of chaos that had been the matriarch’s introduction to bonded life.

But now, that was no longer.

Even Chico’s presence, his wounds, could not distract the matriarch’s gaze. Though her blue eyes did wander toward him a few times—perhaps for solace. Or reassurance that time moves on. Or to ensure that he didn’t indulge in those same, loving, affectionate moments that Edgar and his newfound zephyr partner were sharing.

Regardless, it was this silent, continuous despairing pain that drew the Elephant King to the borders. Because, no matter how many times he asked or prodded through their bond, he got nothing but silence from Mbwene. Silence and sorrow—and an occasional spike of anger at him.

So, with raised brows, he slowly (apprehensively) broached the mist that shrouded the Edge’s gate. Black-rimmed ears remained perked, listening through the thick mist, “He’s a friend of mine.” A hesitant pause, laden with meaning, before a challenging, “He’s come from the Hidden Falls, he’s staying here with us now.” That was assuredly Elsa, followed by another, male voice, “I’m Darwin…” and then Ros’s distinctive, “Oh bitchin’, we got hella room…”

And the King was surprised (though part of him wasn’t) at the wealth of emotion that expanded in his chest. He had no right to jealousy, not after all that he had put Elsa through. But he was a man, and there was some part of him that inherently disliked Darwin—perhaps because he wanted the the Icebound’s happiness, and knew nothing of this unknown stallion. And, of course, shame came quick on this emotion’s heels—and all was blanketed by guilt.

A low sigh pushed out of his nostrils, knowing that he could not stay hidden forever. He was far to large and the mists far to ephemeral (perhaps he had already been seen). So, with slow steps and eyes probing Elsa’s, he stepped forward.

His head dipped in greeting to each in turn, eyes leaving the Icebound long enough to look at Ros (—heavy gaze trying to explain things that needed so many words, and yet none at all—) and then to study the newcomer. “Hello Darwin, I am Tembovu, King of the Edge. You are welcome in the Edge. Roskuld,” his horn motioned towards the Sparklight, “is a tough, but fair, General. You’ll find she’ll hone your skills better than most, if you put out the effort. “

A long pause, and then (finally), “Hello, Elsa.” The low rumble was quiet. He knew he shouldn’t have come—if only Mbwene had answered his questions—

A sharp stab of grim retribution came through their bond. If she was forced to see Edgar with Antaa, then he would see Elsa with Darwin.

the Elephant King