the happy ending depends, of course...

The Elephant lay, a folded mass of solid stallion, dozing in the evening mists. As usual, he hovered just on the brink of true slumber— though it’s peaceful blackness still evaded him with well-practiced ease. Dark muzzle was tucked against his black chest, thick crest mounded atop his arched neck, occasionally twitching with the bite of a bloodthirsty pest. Thankfully, the cold nights nearly eradicated most of the biting flies— perhaps the only redeeming quality of the cold.

Black-rimmed ears swivel as the gong-like sound of glass and abrupt crunch of dried leaves enter them, though his head stays tucked and eyes remained close. An intruder that was was so clumsy certainly could mean no harm… And if they did, he did not feel too entirely concerned about the threat.

“Did someone really make this?” The soft question, revealed the mare’s gender, floated into the night. A smile turned up the corners of his still dozing face; it was always interesting to the King to see how newcomers responded to the broken wall. And the reactions were vast, some fearful, some awe-struck, some unimpressed. His own, so long ago, had been one of action; he had wanted to immediately start rebuilding in some sort of twisted reparation for his past deeds.

In his dozing thoughts, more voices broke the stillness of frosty darkness. A gentle sigh passed through his nostrils, moving the dried grasses that surrounded it. Navy eyes, black in the evening, opened and peered into the shadows, slowly raising his great head. And he was surprised at how close the grey mare stood to him— the mist had muted her voice just as it had masked his sternal from.

He studied her grey form for only a moment, before peering beyond her to see the others, voices he knew well. Aji and Erthe stood, trading words he couldn’t quite make out before addressing the stranger at the broken wall. Brows raise as he admires her trinkets, “And they are hers, Aji,” his low, sleep-ridden rumble sounds from the grass in amusement, “You’d best be careful of this one,” he turns his attentions to the grey woman of trinkets, a smile warming his sleep-bemused face.

“Erthe,” he turned his head to the pearly foal weanling (she was getting so lanky and tall!), “You’re awake at quite the late hour.” Though, in the murky mist, he missed the exhaustion on her drawn face; and she was, in fact, the Seer’s apprentice. To see the Lady Moon, one must be up at night.

A true sigh escaped him, morphing into a groan as he slowly heaved his great mass— growing, growing, until he reached his hooves and great height. Only now did he turned to truly study the stranger— a woman of grey, black, shockingly white hair, and golden accents. “Though my friend speaks true, your jewelry does become you,” he gives a sleepy, lopsided smile.

And he waits for an answer to Aji’s question— indeed what brought this mare to Edge?

...on when you end your story.