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There were only two shadows that cast so heavily on the sands: his father and their Khal.
By the time the boy reached the oasis after breaking from his mother's side he was panting and covered in sweat. The cool touch of Orangemoon only kissed the desert sands in the night, but even now as the sun hung low and the shadows grew longer one could still say the Dragon's Throat was hot. But Nizho liked it here, and running until his body was soaked and his muscles ached and his lungs burned was exhilarating. The boy was coldfire eyes was intense, and he did not live timidly like his twin chose to. No, it was if he were fed rocket fuel most days instead of the milk of his mother and some sparse grasses she instructed him to eat. His tall father mused to his short mother that the boy was given his energy from the Sun. Nizho did not really understand that because the sun gave everything energy. He did not know his father meant the patron God of their sandy home, but in time he would.
Slowing himself to an awkward trot, Nizho nickered in his father's direction. His rabicano flanks ballooned wildly and rapidly with his breathes, but the youngster did not stop until he stood before his father, between the bloodrider and the khal. "AVE!" He breathed heavily, pressing his forehead into his father's broad shoulder. Forgetting his manners for a moment, the child looked up to his father's murky blood eyes. "Didja find anything good on yer patrol!?" He asked quickly, tail and hind end wiggling with the anticipation of his father's answer. He loved hearing his father's tales.
Remembering the looming form of their Sultan, Nizho quickly spun around to face Gaucho and lowered his head, ears drooping sideways as he averted his eyes from the Khal's face. "M'athchomaroon." He mirrored his father.
