the elephant king

A bright glimmer— movement— it drew his gaze away from the sea, though his thoughts remained adrift. Navy eyes swept to the white gleam, unconsciously his mind recognized the familiarity of the snowy white spattered with black. Few within Helovia were marked as such, and only one within the Edge was—

Mauja.

Abruptly, his absentminded thoughts of foal muzzles and his son’s wings were jerked to the present, pupils constricting to pinpoints amid navy irises as his mind focused on the lateral, spotted body. Emotions roiled in him: regret, anger, unease. Far away, Mbwene’s head sleepily rose out of the snuggled nest she shared with Hawezi, wondering what brought about such feelings from her bonded.

But these emotions were belied by the sudden, impulsive grin that crossed the Elephant’s muzzle as he watched the Frozen’s flailing. Unbidden, a low and rich chuckle rumbled from his barrel as the snow leopard crashed his proud crown into a juniper bush. Pressing thick, black lips together to suppress outright laughter, his great neck arched to the side to fully watch the old queen dislodge his head from the needles and slowly raise his head.

The Elephant’s smile faded and died, hide twitching beneath the silent stare of his friend this man. Navy eyes flick to the white, black-rimmed ears that swept towards him, before roving to the mouth that voiced, “Good morning.” Only the smallest crease of lines around his nostrils told of the roiling displeasure, the hurt, that simmered beneath his impassive, blank stare. “It is past that,” was his only reply to the greeting, low voice rolling over the distance between them as his eyes flicked to the sun that was past it's zenith in the sky.

He wavered with uncertainty— to approach, to stay, to accuse, to ask? Lips press further together, making the lines on his face more pronounced as he vacillated. It was uncommon ground for the stallion, he was a man of conviction and decision. He was not often the victim of indecision. A hard, long sigh pushed out of his thick nostrils, before he finally turned towards the horizontal stallion and, “How does immortality treat you?” Perhaps his tone was harsher than intended, especially on his low timbre that was usually so warm and smooth. But, as his hard, navy stare found the spotted man, it was clear how deep that question ran.