the most massive characters are seared with scars
He stirred slowly from his basking in the sunlight. It was a rare, sunny day at the Edge. The mists were light, even absent in some clearings as the afternoon warmth beat down on his broad, striped back. He relished the warmth, letting it soak down to his thick bones. But he moved, a unique sense of plaintive pleasure stirring in him at the pride in Mauja’s daughter’s voice. She was nearly boastful of being his child. He wondered how that felt, to have that from one’s children. Oh, how he secretly (desperately) wanted to know.
Roughly shaking himself from his sun-induced stupor, he began to walk towards the source of the call. From the Basin? A brief sense of unease tickles his barrel, though he sweeps it aside. This was Mauja’s daughter, and so would be welcome in the Edge.
Finally, he breaks through the trees and sees the daughter in question. She is tall, well built, and colored from her dam. For she is black to the Frozen Light’s speckled white. His ears flick forward, dark blue gaze kindly studying her as he approaches.
He lowers his head slightly, so as not to tower quite so much— though this mare is tall enough. But, on closer inspection, he find that she still retains the lankiness of youth, not entirely filled into her height. “Hello, Mauja’s daughter. I am Tembovu,” he pauses, wondering if he should introduce his rank just yet. He is uncertain if Mauja would wish to be the one to tell his daughter that he was no longer King.
He shifts, cocking and resting a thick hind leg. “We are happy to welcome you to the Edge,” his low voice rumbles simply. Though he wondered what caused her to leave the Basin (and he had many questions about the Basin, itself), he respected the bloodline of his friend enough to stave off such inquires.