Set a fire deep in my soul; One I can't contain, one I won't control.

He waited.

He waited long, cold breaths in the Frostfall cold. The light dwindled, the sinking low and heavy in the sky— just as the King’s heart sank low and heavy in his chest. His call was unheeded, those who were absent from the meeting ignored him. A long, visible sigh clung around his muzzle as a small cloud. Ears tilted back, eyes slowly blinked as he began to turn, heading back into the Edge while mentally striking those absent from the herd, until—

“Tembovu.”

Her voice was quiet, a silken entreaty in the failing light. His great skull swung, thick horn slicing through the mists as cobalt eyes fall on the woman of beauty and grace. He says nothing, though the edges of his eyes crease in displeasure to see her lovely framed bowed in supplication before him. His lips pursed and brow ceased as she continued to speak, disappointment morphing into displeasure.

She was “intimidated”? A short, disbelieving snort left his nostrils as his darkening eyes studied the elegant lines of her face. She joined a herd, only to slip into obscurity and avoid those around her? And to think of herself as not apart of the Edge? It confused, saddened, and irritated the King. But he held his silence until all her words had finished— his eyes ending their roaming and meeting her pleading gaze. A black-dotted ear flicked to the skies as her griffin cried above them, yet the remainder of his attention was focused solely on her.

“Arah,” his low rumble firmly began, “While I may be the one to call you forward for explanations, it is not I that requires your apology. You owe it to the Edge, to your herdmates— for this is only your home if you make it so,” he paused, eyes growing sadder, older, “Perhaps you might better understand that in solitude. Being alone may help—”

“Tembovu!”

His words were cut off by a shout and galloping hooves. His head snapped towards the sound, eyes finding the fast-approaching, newly appointed Moon Doctor. And he kept coming, closer, closer, until the Elephant’s eyes widened fractionally and he leaned backwards on his haunches, preparing for a collision. But he slid to a halt, shouting vouches for his elegantly antlered friend.

He is quiet for a moment, ears flickering as the ringing of Tilney’s shouts slowly settled out of their sensitive funnels. But one word didn’t leave his moving ears: “Mercy.” It was a foreign concept to him as a leader: a general was not merciful. He had not shown mercy in training drills. He did not show mercy when assigned to slaughter the ‘enemy.’ His had been a one-track mind of vengeance. He had even plunged his horn into the flesh of a woman he cared for (Adaeze). But now, with green eyes flashing and lantern swaying, Tilney asked for just that: mercy.

And the Elephant King, seeking to distance himself from his past and his demons (and perhaps gain some semblance of mercy from those in his herd), gave it.

“Tilney vouches for you, Arah. You are lucky to have such a friend as this— perhaps more ties could be found in the Edge if you put aside your intimidation and exist among them. Being threatened by the possibility of closeness is a fear of your own making,” he paused eyes drifting over her again, “The swelling of our herd has brought an increased in droppings throughout the land. It would do you well to clean it off the cliffs. And perhaps cleaning the land will bring you closer to it.”

The smallest of smiles crossed his muzzle as turned his attention to the bronze Doctor, “And I think you, too, should accompany your truest friend in her endeavors, Tilney. If she is worth your word and vouches, then she is worth your company and help in this task.” Lightening, navy gaze sparked once in interest.