HEROES MAY DIE

The night had been peaceful, still filled with the warmth of the previous day. It had been the comforting sounds of the bubbling brook in the distance that had lulled the towering Friesian into a well earned rest, his head dropped to a comfortable position, body leaned against the broad support of a Loplolly. The family had settled just a few short hours ago, but it seemed that was all that was needed for a particular colt.

Destrier had awoken with a start, unsure who, or what was the culprit for his awakening. It had only taken him a second to realize that one of his children were missing, for only Laila lay upon the ground, without her brother. Where had Luken gone? Lifting his head to scan the area around them, Destrier saw no sign of the pale youngster, and instantly a waver of fear blossomed within his chest. The Edge was not known to host predators, but they were no impervious to them. His son could have always ventured past the borders, too, but Destrier wouldn't allow himself to think on the thought for too long.

He was unwilling to wake Tor from her slumber, for one worried parent was enough, so the Friesian turned and quietly slipped away from them, moving into a hurried trot as he set off across their herd land in search of his wayward son. Thankfully, their patron God seemed to be on his side tonight, for her rays shined brightly across the rocky floor, lighting his way as he searched.

With nostrils flaring, Destrier searched, pausing only when the strangest of notes caught within his ears. Slowing himself, he listened for a moment, quickly recognizing the sound of a dragon. The scaly creatures were common in this land, and Destrier had come to enjoy their songs whenever he was lucky enough to hear them. This one was no doubt enjoying the beautiful Tallsun night.

Just as the knight was about to move on and continue his search, he heard the unmistakable sound of laughter, low and warm. It was not one to come from a child, however, the voice to follow it was. It proclaimed something about a queen. 'Mirage?' He wondered in the depths of his mind, and without a second's worth of hesitation, the Friesian moved onward at a steady canter until he had found the assembled group.

There were three bodies dancing beneath the gentle moonlight, and Destrier felt a heavy weight lift from his shoulders when his eyes found the spotted form of his son. It was a relief to see his Queen, the great Weyrleader, watching over him, even if that hadn't been her first intention. There was another amongst them, however, a young filly that he couldn't recall ever seeing before. A horn was perched proudly upon her brow, and his son seemed to be eyeing it with a great deal of wonder.

A low chortle left his throat as he approached, knees snapping into the air in a way that was common in his breeding. Destrier found that he couldn't be angry with his son, at least, not this time; the night was too perfect, and after all, Luken did hold the blood of a wanderer and a warrior. "My liege," he said in welcoming to the Dragonheart, dipping his head briefly in a most respectful manner before turning his eyes upon the two dancing youngsters. It was a brief look, however, for following Mirage's lead, Destrier threw his own head, the wild length of his mane going everywhere at once as he veered to the right, welcoming the thought of a carefree night.

For now, there would be no words spoken to his son about his wandering off; he was not in trouble, and Destrier was simply thankful that he was safe.

BUT LEGENDS ENDURE