Tallsun. What a hideous season.

d’Artagnan grumbled along the trail that was once covered in snow and instead was now patched in it. The time of year for long grasses and long nights, the time most horses loved and, naturally, the Nightshade hated the blushing season that melted his beloved mountain. The Doctor decided to be useful for a change and started his favourite patrol of wandering the Frostbreath Steppe, hoping this time he wouldn’t find Illynx lying in wait just to make his day oh so brighter. If anything the red bay was stalling for time, he had promised Kou to make things right, to do what she wanted to do now. Yet, she wanted to leave the Basin and go rogue for a while, a life d’Artagnan had already sampled and he couldn’t tell if it was better or worse. There was a freedom to outcastdom, but there was also a sense of boredom and the shade rather enjoyed belonging to the mountain these days. He had made the decision to find Kou again and ask her one last time if this really was the route she wanted to go down. To severe their ties was not a small thing as d’Artagnan had found. If she was still adamant on leaving then the red brute would follow.


He followed the paw prints of Aramis at a brisk trot out onto the Tallsun blighted Steppe and together they began their patrol, starting near the Basin’s borders before heading further out and away from home. The Frostbreath was just outside the boundary of his herd and thus the Doctor deemed it the first place outside the Basin to be checked, d’Artagnan liked an excuse to leave the borders for a bit.

Aramis set off at a bound, red tipped tail waving from side to side as his ink dipped nose set to work on scenting everything and anything that came within his vicinity to track. Eventually, he picked up on something, a horses scent and one they didn’t know though it was vaguely familiar, the hound had smelled so many four legged beasts it was hard for him to differentiate. Especially between vaguely known scents. Stranger, this way. Was all he said and d’Artagnan avidly followed behind, wondering what he would find at the end of the trail.

It was the Nightshade himself who recognised the brother who came into his sights, though albeit only because he had a bag like his own. A nuisance to the shoulders. Maybe he also met a frivolous tree. Who knew, all d’Artagnan understood was that he was a horned kin with extra compartments strapped to his sides. Aramis dropped to a lope beside his bonded until finally the duo came to a halt in front of the thick bodied brother. "Well well, the bag boy from before, my fellow packhorse! How goes it brother?" his gruff voice almost purred as the wind buffeted his wild mane.