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It was not for lack of interest that they’d not seen each other practically all season. Hector had spent many an afternoon or morning after his patrol shifts searching for her, combing the oasis for the enticing scent of her; the enchanting mysteriousness pooling behind the obscurity of her glacial-blue eyes. He had been taken aback the moment his fire-bright eyes had been set upon her, intrigued and attracted, and all the more when she’d followed him so unquestioningly back to the underground haven beneath the very heart of Helovia. She was though; it seemed, as elusive as the mythical pygmy-hippocamp which seldom graced the shores of their home with its presence. He wondered often if the derisive greeting by the rasher leader- Ampere, who had now been swallowed by the winds of oblivion, had been rather discouraging; pushing Morana to feel alienated and alone amidst them. The stallion prayed not, and hoped always to stumble upon her soon, so that he could draw her clear of the shadows of uncertainty.
It was her darkness though, his own ambiguity when he thought of her, that was so appealing...
As another long shift drew to an end, the vibrant hues of the golden afternoon began to dull and the shadows draped along his thick muscular frame, to lengthen. A gaping yawn fought his strong jaws apart, as he stretched each limb free of stiffness and fatigue. It had been a rather uneventful day. No visitors had fallen across their doorstep this time, and the hot salt-bitter wind as it swept roughly off the southern ocean had caused much of the deserts native wildlife into hiding. For much of his time on guard, Hector had roamed the beach by the bridge to the mainland, building his strength, pushing his considerable weight backwards and forwards through the sodden, sticky sand there. Though he was fit and primed for duty, the stallion’s long legs ached for rest. This downtime quest of his it seemed though was a tireless one.
While the sun began to sink into the red dunes of the west, he paused briefly to refuel; to drink sparingly the clean, crisp waters of the Throat and sample the tart, overripe fruits still embellishing their lush paradise. He was never one to over indulge, his flanks bore not an inch of excess fat, and he wasted little time fussing over the food sources available. Soon he was stepping along the worn track away from the lake, making haste between palm tree copses; searching with sharp, ravenous eyes for the female he so craved to see. Night fell swiftly though, and Hector felt again the sting of his fruitlessness. Why could he not settle his need? Frustrated, he spread apart his enormous wingspan. The light, warm wind gathered beneath and he lurched forward as powerful haunches uncoiled, lifting between thrusts into the eerie embrace of the moon’s pale glow.
In bursts he swept towards the north, passing hurriedly across the rolling, blurring hues of the night-washed realm below. In the hours to come he would need to work again, but his thoughts writhed, his restless, exhausted body could not relax. Beneath him, the black expanse of ocean upon which he would resume patrol materialised, and just east, the strip of land binding them to Helovia stretched away north into the shadows; to the mainland. Suddenly a call was borne onto the wind around him, a taste lacing it that sent instantly his heart reeling downwards; his body plunging between tucked wings.
She was there, haunting song filling the night, caressing the strain of his listening ears, and this time he would not miss her; this time, he was there beside her, like a moth to a flame.
"Morana..." He crooned softly, sliding his copper frame around her until he sat square at her front.
"Where are you going so late?" It seemed only natural that she, one of mystery and of concealment would travel only through the cover of darkness; he was hardly surprised, but also unwilling to let her slip from his grasp now.
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