The change of season left the Edge shrouded in a new sort of beauty— and the Elephant King was surprised to find himself thinking the Edge beautiful, at all. When he had first entered these lands, trailing after a spotted stallion who seemed more ice than living being, he hadn’t exactly been taken with the misty forests and crumbling cliffs. He was a straightforward man of action (or so he thought himself), and mist allowed for hiding and subterfuge. The cliffs, while breathtaking, were made of crumbling white rock that was nothing like the sturdy, supportive plains in Dorobo. In short, it had been his opposite.

But opposites attract.

So now, given the grace of time, he found himself meandering through the trees, appreciating the warm and bright colors of leaves that both faded into and leapt out of the mists. The coolness that lingered still irked him— and he knew it would only worsen. That was one thing he would not, could not, grow to like. His body, though large, was designed and adjusted to the heat of grasslands.

Such mindless musings were interrupted by a firm, demanding bellow echoed throughout the herdlands. The Elephant had been summoned often as of late, but those other calls lacked the command and unreserved power that rumbled in this boom. Such undertones belonged only to leaders. He halted, cream ears perked towards the borders, giant head raised as he pinpointed the source of the sound. As he did so, the last meeting with leads dimly swam through his memories— it had been with Mauja as lead and nothing had come of it. Truth be told, the Elephant was mildly relieved, for he had no love for the Basin.

Still, alliances were useful— important— to a herd, and it would be unwise to slight the call of another ruler. Perhaps it would be the fire-winged lead of the Throat? So he rolled into a slow lope, carrying his heavy body with resounding steps towards the call.

Alas, the ominous man of death and dark eyes appeared before him in the fog. He slowed his massive frame to a jog, a walk, and finally a halt. Leveling meeting the gaze as dark blue as his own, he nodded his massive horn in greeting to the once-met stallion. “Hello, Deimos. I am Tembovu— we met briefly when you last honored the Edge with a visit,” though his words were carefully impassive, there was an air of genuineness to them; the meeting had been brief, the giant wasn’t certain the Lord would remember him. “I have succeeded Mauja as King. And Elsa has become Queen,” his eyes flickered ever so slightly to the skies, wondering if the Icebound had heard the Reaper’s call, before returning his calm gaze to the dark grey stallion, “You called?” Though his question was simple and straightforward, he takes a step backwards, inviting the Lord over the threshold with his body language.

Tembovu

The Elephant King