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10-04-2015, 10:33 PM
Only the dead have seen the end of war.
He felt the lingering crispness of the air as he waited along the borders. He had seen his lead wander off sometime ago— presumptively to the Threshold. Tembovu had wandered, cleaning glass, grazing, exchanging pleasantries with herdmates. Though curiosity had piqued in the lull of his activities, and he wandered along the border of patchwork glass wall.
So when he has caught sight through the mist of a familiar white form, he waited. Waited to either greet his friend, or welcome a new herdmate, or (hopefully) both. A lightening of mist— perhaps the moon’s way of welcoming the new members— allowed his deep blue eyes to see that this was a welcoming.
He grinned, the lopsided movement spreading across his broad, inked face. Though his eyes narrow, for was the fog playing tricks on him? It was not nearly thick enough to do so, but one never knew with the moon goddess. Was this mare painted with the figures of the stars?
Indeed, the constellations spread across her ashen coat. Some were peaking from beneath her mass of wavy tresses. They were captivating. He blinked, shook his head, and turned his attention to his spotted comrade. “Mauja,” he bobbed his head in greeting, careful to not use the man’s title, “I see you've brought a lovely new herdmate,” he returned his questioning eyes to the mare. “I am Tembovu,” he says simply, “And I would love to know the names of the constellations on your coat.” Belatedly, he realizes by the way the two are looking at each other, that he has interrupted a conversation. Oops. He falls silent.
Tembovu
@Katerina
Please tag Tembovu.
