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Like a whisper of wind; an invisible breath of life, he wafted between the old woody trunks of the Threshold, pausing naught but for the encountering of one other, a mare whose simplicity only complimented further her beauty. He whirled around her silently, disguised by the mild Tallsun breeze, undetectable and untraceable. As he examined her; locks as rusty-red as his bonded’s own, and a rich chestnut canvas to match, Veci became jealous, convinced that the stallion would find her equally enthralling. With wickedness tickling his fancy, the Boggart slipped to her front where he began at once to replicate her fears; an unseen monster preying, flickering vision of suffering and heartbreak; a family torn apart. He had not found such a victim as she for a long while, and voicelessly he cackled, watching and waiting for her terror.
Not far away, Hector had been roaming, searching for those lost and wandering; the hopeless and homeless. The late afternoon heat was not so unbearable so far to the north, where clouds meandered lazily in wispy white strips, and the breeze winding through the ancient forest was mild and moist. The canopy overhead was sparse and fickle, and he passed between the bright sunlit shafts quickly and carefully, sweat lathered where the points of his burly frame rubbed together. The Threshold was quiet for a change, the metric chant of cicadas drowning out the mellow hum of the voices en masse which normally might be heard well above the song of the natural world- a world which the warrior was slowly discovering.
For all of his life, the tawny stallion had lived and breathed battle and every aspect therein. It was his calling, the reason for which he had been purged from his mother’s womb- only the life known had not been all about might and power. Hector had been shunned by his family, cruelly rejected for the unusual combination of his traits; his two horned face and lashing leonine tail, his enormous wingspan, altogether appearing as impure. He had been pushed from his right to the throne of his father, and exiled in a sense- never to return. Only now, goaded by his grief after the most recent Darkness (which had apparently devoured those he felt closest to- Midas, Gaucho and a great many others), did the warrior long for change and excitement well clear of bloodied combat.
Recruiting was something he was quite unfamiliar with. He had combed the forest many times before indeed, but rarely to strike up conversation with the unknown; to win their loyalty and bring them home. Taught copper flinched uncertainly as evening broke above and a sudden shadow began to swell around him whenever the trees thickened above. Bravely the sun fought on, and Hector hastened to jog, desperate for this first endeavour; this attempt to be anything more than a soldier, to be a success. That was when his mind filled with foreboding, and apprehension that seemed only to stem from the mischievous mind of his partner.
“Veci!...”
His mind tugged worriedly at their bond, straining to infiltrate the bonded Boggart’s thoughts and pull him clear of whatever wrongdoing he was in the midst of. The stallion broke into a canter, pushing through a glade filled with the golden glaze of the waning light, and swiftly back down into the tree line opposite. He drew on their bond to guide him, and minutes later her stumbled upon her, a mare whose appearance seemed uncannily like his (save for the hint of his tri-bred lineage).
"Veci!" He bellowed angrily, wing swooping forward to slice through his vapour form should it have been like Hector thought, front and centre before the stranger.
"I am so sorry... are you alright?" The image scattered at once, and the Boggart wheeled away from the stallion resentfully.
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You're the King, and I'm the Lionheart
