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Carry both of us Carry her, carry me The she-wolf was not pleased with their previous answers, and Einarr took a step back. Gritting his teeth, Einarr looked down at the smokey boy next to him. Would Rhoa begin to doubt him, after spending his time following the stallion? Einarr looked away and snorted, tail flicking against his hocks in his clear frustration. Einarr was a warrior, and though he was intelligent, word games were not his strong suite. It took all of his power to keep his cloven hooves planted and his wings tucked into his side, for his heart thumped against his darkened breast and willed him to fly away. No, he thought egg worth it. Another snort followed his thoughts and he let his red-brown eyes rest on the she-wolf once more. The wise creature--though arrogant in Einarr's mind--grew more and more confusing as she rambled on. She desired for them to string her the longest of words.
Einarr listened as those around him gave their answers, Rhoa going first. The black stallion had a flicker of pride for the ripe young boy as he gave his answer, but it faded as it was all-too quick. A mare and stallion gave their answers--the same word as the other--and it was longer than Rhoa's. Einarr frowned, his dark lips pulling towards the earth. Another spoke, with another long word. The gears in Einarr's mind worked hard. He searched and searched, his mind running through each word he knew like it was a giant database. However, after moments of silence, Einarr finally lifted his head and spoke his word. "Athastokhdeveshizar. Word of my native tongue...it mean nonsense."
The stallion looked again to Rhoa, and bumped the young boy's shoulder with his muzzle. His eyes sparked as he glanced at Rhoa's blues. "Gaucho teach sons native tongue for reasons." He spoke to the boy with a hushed whisper, the sentence meant only for him. |
if you bury me, i'll bury you
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