He wasn’t sure why he had returned to the Threshold. He knew he wanted to get away from the Edge. To much guilt and anger were sowed there, for now, as he left his Icebound Queen on the cliffs. Though he would return, always, for his son dwelled within the shattered glass walls. So he understood why he was so far the Edge.

But why was he here? Perhaps it was because he missed the Threshold. He missed witnessing and playing a role in the start of other’s new beginnings in Helovia. And in the Threshold, there was some small chance at giving another happiness. A start at a new life, a new role, forgetting the ghosts of one’s past. Whereas recently, for the Elephant King, he had given others only anguish and dutiful jobs.

He sighed as his massive frame wove through trees he had once, so many moons ago, been stuck between during his own arrival to Helovia. Back then he had been filled with anticipation, but now… Now duty moved his hooves while many distractions caused his navy eyes to unseeingly bounce between the trunks. Oh, how times have changed the man.

“… Dorobo…” The word leapt out at him, the only coherent phrase in all the mumblings he hadn’t been paying attention to between the trees. Pale ears swung forward, suddenly straining as his head raised, eyes sharp and cutting through the shadows of the thick forest. A feminine voice, lilting and beautiful, drifts to him, but he cannot make out many of the words. And the source of the one who had spoken ‘Dorobo’ does not speak again. So, with curiosity reviving the great stallion’s interested in the Threshold, the Elephant’s thick legs move in to a brisk trot between the trees, quickly bringing him to the source of the two voices.

His halt is abrupt, navy eyes first taking in the slick, grey skin of the woman. And she is obviously woman, the source of the lovely voice, as told by the shape of her neck and curve of her hips. There is something alluring about her, keeping his gaze for a moment too long. But the dangerous temptation of the scaled woman is forgotten the moment his dark gaze alights on striped man. The Dorobian.

It is obvious, to the Elephant, that this man is from the Great Plains. The stripes on his coat and sweep of his impressive horns give it away. But there is something more the Plains gives another. Something… wild, untamed, and tribal. It lurks in the carriage of one’s body and the tick of one’s eyes; forever searching for dangers that gave strength to those who could survive Dorobo.

And the King found this in the smaller stallion. But, as his eyes arrested on the other’s gaze, he also found two-colored eyes. His own widen, surprised to find evil’s mark on a Dorobian. It was so rare on the plains, now, that finding it was thought to surely be the mark of fate. And he is also surprised at his own reaction to it— for hadn’t he already encountered other Helovians with bi-colored eyes? And they had not harbored misfortune.

But seeing it on a Dorobian was different. It revived his primal, instinctive urges to judge and condemn— even to fight, as he felt the broad sweep of muscle on his neck and shoulder grow rigid. Yet they were just eyes, simple yellow and blue. Hadn’t life thus far taught him that far worse and more powerful things existed than duo-hued gazes?

He sighed, willing himself to relax. Dipping his massive horn slightly in greeting, his navy eyes broke their stare of the plainsman, sweeping between the pair. “Hello, I am Tembovu, also of Dorobo and now King of the World’s Edge,” his deep voice is rich in greeting, “I welcome you to Helovia, and offer you residence in the Edge. A few others from the plains and plateaus call it their home, as well.” His attention, which had been focused on the hyena-marked, shifted to the seal-skinned woman, “I haven’t seen you in the Threshold before. Are you new to Helovia, as well?” Although it had been a long while since he had frequented the Helovia’s entrance, he still wondered if this woman was new.