The peace of morning was short lived, I could smell the oncoming approach of a familiar lad long before eyes caught sight of his earth toned pelt and masked face. The boy was in high spirits, a smile upon his maw and chocolate eyes. My crown shifted toward him, Fina stirred, cooing softly before settling back to sleep. “Well met, Marco.” One end of my face flicked up out of gentle humor and easement when my little brother began speaking about weather, stumbling and bowing every so often and adding an embellishment to my already flashy title.

For those moments I listened quietly, ears erect in a show of proof that not a single syllable would be cast aside, “Yar,” I smiled wider, naturally allowing the other end of lips to trail high, “Tis soon in coming. Please, call me Midas—no need for a show among brothers.”

His shorter frame was quickly coming into adulthood; I’d watched Cera grow in a similar manner. The stunted legs and torso of youth would be quickly eaten up with the muscles of a man. “Ye were a welcome sight among the wolves at our last meeting.” My gaze darkened into tawny amber, shifting from company toward the burning horizon. “One of the few who didn’t gaze upon me with a loathsome stare better suiting a snake.”

Aye, the politics of running a herd. Fina lifted her head, peeling back her lids to witness Marco standing near. She scolded, unfurled her sunlit feathers and jerked toward heaven in one swift beat. Guessing that our conversation was going to last longer than a few moments, and she wasn’t willing to wait.

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Though he struggled to say my name without extra embellishment, in the end my young friend succeeded. I disliked titles; they set men above their brothers in common conversation. Very rarely did my words call upon the benefits of honor that came with a crown—but most certainly not in front of kin. “Better,” I soothed when Marco finally dropped the ‘highness’ and reverence.

His surprise to my statement was warranted, possibly due to a tender age. “Hmm,” the serpents lay in our bed—they hissed and swept me over with their silted eyes. I was no snake charmer, and it was only a matter of time before one such reptile got the opportunity to bite.“It is a thing of little concern right now,” purposely I ended our conversation on that topic—we two weren’t gossiping mares. Instead interest shifted back to his standing in the herd, and how the young lad had begun to grow within this family, “Has ye begun training in a duty? And honing your battle skills?” Talking about spars and war was often easier than conversation on the politics of running a clan.

Besides, nothing could quite stomp the sweaty smell of two combatants locked in the heat of passion. A dance that was as old as courtship, beautiful and savage all at once; my lips curled into a high smile, pushing against whatever dreary ailment that had inflicted my mind, “Should ye need a dancing partner to further your training, consider me a willing one.”

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Word count 252

His weak response was a question more than anything—and it became painfully obvious that the youth likely hadn’t trained a day in his short life. Or at least trained in a way that was meaningful. My smile is one not tight with teasing, it is gentle and understanding as I’ve always been. “Yar, as all things are.” Forelimbs stretched and carried this frame in a gracefully sidestep, moving to back up with banner flickering and feathers ruffling. The light of day shinned brightly all around us, and dust stirred as feet churned the earth. “Courtship is a dance, politics are a dance, but battle—has the most beautiful steps to learn.”

Honeyed gaze never left the colt, his darker eyes were my fixed point and I watched them steadily. When the lad voiced if he should be the first to come at me I paused midstep and settled heavily into the dirt, releasing a breath I’d been holding. “If ye can.” Wings slithered tighter, I held them snugly against my barrel. “Show me your steps.” Voice didn’t taunt him, lure him—instead it came across as smooth velvet, softer than the belly of a fawn. Eyes flicked to his shoulders, watching for signs of him to spring those muscles into action.

We stood across from each other, my body had grown still. Seemingly unmoving except for the occasional flick of hair or tail from a passing breeze. Limbs gave the appearance of locked position, but my tight chest should be clear warning that their hold could alter given the slightest reason. Ears perked high, eagerly listening for a catch or change of breath.

Attack (0,3)
Word count 274