Tembovu & Mbwene

Black rimmed ears sweep forward, listening to the rise and fall of voices that came through the misted trunks. He recognized only one voice— and only vaguely. He waited, ears still perked but great skull swiveling as the voices drifted from the border to gradually entering the Edge. There were sounds that ended higher than they began— wordless questions and uncertain tones. It obviously begged his attention. Mbwene bumped her infant, elephant head against his knee— why were they just waiting in the mists? She felt the pull of his obligation through their bond. And, likewise, he felt the pull of curiosity from her.

The curiosity was a breath of fresh air for the Elephant King. So, unknowingly turning up the edges of his thick lips, he grasped onto the sentiment in his bond and started towards the voices with sweeping strides of his massive legs. Mbwene, ears waving in triumph, trotted eagerly out ahead of him; small body disappearing in the mist.

She stumbled on the two equines a few meters ahead of her bonded, appearing from the mist before he did. Her bright blue eyes in her youthful face immediately zeroed into the furry companion with paws perched on an unknown mare’s muzzle. Uncertain if this creature meant danger— and with the lion companion’s threats still very fresh in her young mind— she emitted a brassy half-trumpet, ears out and waving to make herself appear larger. But she did not back away— no, her curiosity was too great. And, her bonded would be close behind. In her young and naive mind, he could protect her from anything.

Sure enough, the giant man emerged from the mist shortly after Mbwene’s trumpet. Navy eyes pin his companion (ensuring that she was safe) before sweeping to the two speaking equines. One was Lyanna, the other was foreignly familiar. She was from the blood-soaked sands of the Isles. The day of Mauja’s daughters death— though he did not know the electrified mare, he would not forget the images and faces of that tragic day.

At the wave of sadness from Tembovu, the small elephant murmured a throaty squeak, one ear falling flush with her head. But she remained fixated on the furry creature.

“Hello Lyanna,” his low voice rumbles in greeting, before turning his attention to the strangely marked mare. “I don’t think we’ve properly met. I am Tembovu, King of the Edge. But you know that as well as any,” his navy stare pins the mare, attempting to ignore the flashes of a white carcass and congealed blood. “Are you looking for Mauja?” His spotted friend had offered her leadership of the Edge, they must share a friendship?