Archibald's movements were still stiff, an after thought of his battle with Lace and Lakota's healing works. Even so, the wrathful giant moved with pride and power, muscles rippling beneath his swarthy pelt. His golden eyes were cold, his mind masked from the prodding of his companion. Loudly, in his the back of his head, gnawed the memory of the sound of Fajira's squeak when Loretta crushed her between her jaws, followed by the hollow thud after the bitch dropped her to the ground. Loretta, feeling the memory tugging at his anger, stayed loyal at his heels, but walked with her head low and tail curled between her hind legs, wrapping around the left pillar. She felt no remorse for her actions, but she felt the ice of Archibald's disappointment and anger in droves. She knew, from the moment she tasted dragons blood, that their bond would take much care and gentleness to rebuild.

Finally, their hooves and paws met the Thistle Meadow together, their new chosen home. The meadow was an optimal choice--the grass as lush and flavorful; the stream full; the barricade of trees offering them careful protection. Together, they would thrive here. Taking in a breath, the Dauntless shifted to his knees before finally to his side, his mammoth body resting on the dark ground, bathed in moonlight. Loretta, slowly and carefully, took a sphinx position in the shadow of Archibald's neck. Archibald closed his eyes as the wind swept over the meadow, bringing a plethora of scents to his palette. His ears twitched, gathering information above his crown. Quietly, his mind and heart thrummed with the desire for Circe to move from the darkness of the forest, for her to reveal herself. Archibald wished for her to follow him, to be with him, as his mare and not his warrior. He was no longer her General, he had no claim over her except for the wracking emotion that tugged at the corners of his heart. Before the blue-grey mare, Archibald had not given love or procreation any thought, for he was merely a weapon of destruction, but the death of Mandrake had changed so much within the mind of the combatant. Snorting, Archibald opened his eyes again.

She will come. She loves us. Loretta mused in an attempt to comfort the Dauntless. Narrowing his eyes, Archibald turned his head, shielding his molten gaze from Loretta. Whining, a small and fractured coo, the dog lowered her head to rest on her paws, stained between the toes with soil and foliage. Above their cold pair, the Moon glistened, casting an eerie light over the Meadow that seemed to entrap them, savoring their silence.


@[Circe]