Tembovu

the Elephant

Birdsong was warm this year— hot even. And the heat filled his nostrils with scents of birth and breeding, sweat and blood and life… In the absence of his son (he expected because of the rift that now existed between Elsa and himself), he acutely felt the splintered shadows that yawned in his chest as he aimlessly wandered the Edge.

Though he was not for lack of companionship. Mbwene’s brassy trumpet tartly reminded him of that, as she followed closely on his heels. She was growing, loosing her calf-dom as proud ears spread around her skull, a long trunk dexterously swung from her face, and dangerously long tusks swept sharply from her lips. Another change had overcome the calf. Gradually at first, but now, with the ardent and emotion-laden jaunts of her bonded, it was clear. She was skeptical. Shrewdness lined her bright blue eyes in wrinkled, grey skin. She had felt the billows of passion and relief when her Elephant had been with Adaeze. It had been so different than the comfort and compassion he has shared with Elsa; it had been different from the heart-aching need and affection he had given Orithia; and also had differed from the care and protective love that had flowed when he had been with Rexanna.

And this, the emotion that flowed from her bonded as his navy eyes fell on Nyx, was different still. A short harrumph leaves her long trunk, eyes glancing from titan to grey mare, skeptical of whatever her bonded was about to delve into. But, remembering her last encounter with the General, she dismissed the feelings flowing through the bond to scan the area for Dominus, Nyx’s lion companion. Bright blue eyes pinned him in the low branches of a tree, and fixed a knowing stare at him while she remained close to to Tembovu’s side.

In fairness, the Elephant King’s feelings were different than any other when he saw his General. A woman he had once thought to be the mother to his children, only to find that the twins belonged to another stallion. And to have lost Rexanna over it… But the King did not blame the woman, nor begrudge her her children. Instead, some strange combination of warm camaraderie and quiet, sad loss of what could have been bloomed in his chest as he approached her.

“Nyx, my trustworthy General,” his low voice rumbles loudly in greeting as he and his companion approach, “I’ve been looking for you.” As if to punctuation his point, Mbwene dropped two glass spears, which she had carried in her trunk, unceremoniously on the ground. Tembovu’s thick lips twitch up in a small, lopsided grin at the surly look and overt stretches of her trunk.

“The Moon Goddess has tasked our warriors with sparring each other using glass spears, so that we might know the pain our future glass spikes will cause,” his thick horn motioned to the spears lying in the thick Birdsong grasses, “I trust you can find a soldier willing enough to spar you.” His lopsided grin grew full fledged as he remembered the time they had sparred, and the happy ending following (forgetting, for the moment, the unfortunate and far reaching consequences after it).

And then he really looked at his General, navy eyes sweeping her unswollen barrel and the firm arch of her haunches. She, thankfully, had gained weight since returning from her failed mission to find her father. And haunted shadows had (mostly) left her eyes, though the King’s voice still rolled, more quietly this time, “I’m sorry Nyx, I’m all business and no play… How are you? I’ve missed your humor around the Edge.” Black rimmed ears swept forward as he watched her closely and awaited a reply.