It had been years since Archibald had traveled to the Secret Grove. This had never been a place of solace for the warlord, the air of romance and the smell of love plastered it too deeply. Before Circe, the Dauntless had taken no interest in mares, knowing they would defeat his purpose in this world--at least, the purpose Mandrake had given him. Now, his mother was gone, Circe was his love, and he had two healthy sons that were making their way in this world. Mandrake had been wrong about mares--or, Circe was the exception. He was still powerful, newly named Captain of the World's Edge after coming out victorious in a battle against three others and two companions. Now he was traveling to find his mate, his dearly beloved. He needed her, wanted her to walk by his side into this new herdland, to serve again with him and have a gleam in her eyes as she tossed her body around in the dancing of battle.
Emerging from a cluster of trees, the Dauntless and his bitch in sync lowered their muzzles to drink from the cool waters of the grove's pond. Ears swiveled atop the king's head, searching for sounds in the most instinctive sort of manner. Lifting his head, with water droplets falling from his pale lips, he did find another. The small, stocky body with the golden red hide caught his attention easily, and brought memories flooding back. Romani. The woman had once fought as a warrior beneath his command, but that had been eons ago. He had not spoken to her since he was usurped. Loretta licked her muzzle. Go. She pleaded, looking up at him with knowing amber eyes before she plodded her way towards the halflinger mare and her tiger.
The behemoth followed his bitch, his head raised in its usual manner. His golden eyes ran over her body, noticing signs of wear and tear that had not been present they day he, quite literally, threw her to the ground. She smelled of no particular herd, and he guessed that the life of a vagabond, a gypsy, had taken the toll on her as it had him. Clearing his throat, Archibald slowed and stopped, weight squared over his massive hooves. "It has been long, Romani."
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