tembovu

The Elephant King was far off, high in the sea cliffs when the two, loosely formed ashen hyenas found him. Though they had lost their excitement of finding Kiada; instead, they were driven by the dark, lost, irritating need the dark prince had for his father. So their ash-hot eyes and cinder teeth snapped at the King and Mbwene in some vicious shadow of ‘herding.’ However, the small matriarch was having none of it and, with an angry blasting trumpet of her trunk, sent the already-wavering ashen hyenas yelping away with a dose of her own Ashen magic. A companion’s magic normally would not have been so effective against a unicorns; however, Kianzo was young, and his magic had been weakened by traveling so far a distance.

But such thoughts were not what swirled in the King’s mind—no, his mind was trying to tell him something. But what? His black-rimmed ears tilted back, navy eyes screwed in thought as his thick neck arched away from the sea’s endless horizon, facing towards the Edge’s far-off borders. Hyenas made of ash—he knew only of Mbwene that possessed ash magic in the Edge. His breaths paused as his mind, overburdened with worries and responsibilities and tasks and issues, tried to tell him—to shout the importance of this fleeting moment to him—

Kianzo. Kianzo had ashen hyena magic. Though he had never seen it, Rexanna and Kiada had told him of it.

And his legs were moving, an ivory and ebony blur pounding against the icy land, shaking snow from limbs and down inclines. Mbwene squawked indignantly aloud and in his mind, Wait!, but her voice faded as his galloping hooves and massive strides left her behind. He ran to the border, uncertain of where his son may be, but the logic in his mind told him to start at the gate—getting through the spikes would be a pointless endeavor.

The quaking earth heralded the Elephant’s arrival to the gate, his rapidly moving gaze drawn to the inferno that overwhelms two foal-like figures. A trumpet of shocked fear left his chest, limbs slowing only partially as he neared his fiery daughter and prodigal son—though his fears (especially of fire and burning children) were quickly assuaged as no heat emanated from the tangle of limbs that were his and Rexanna’s finally reunited children. It was merely Kiada’s magic, just consuming her entire body. There was no danger here (—not yet).

Relief swamped him, his head dropping down to pull the embracing children to his chest, “My son,” were the only words his low rumble could choke out. A deep breath pulled in his child’s scent—arguably this gave him more euphoria than when he had first met his twins. He sighed, gaze finally lifting from his children to the other beings that stood at the gate. His subconsciousness had recognized their presence, but he had not actually recognized them yet.

However, his relief melted away at the sight that greeted his gaze. Navy eyes darkened and narrowed, blatantly staring at all points of contact between Thranduil and Rexanna: their necks, chests, muzzles. The relaxed, relieved grin that had covered his muzzle was replaced by a pursed lips as his ever-helpful mind reminded him of the lingering, soft looks Thranduil had given Rexanna on the beach. While his demons reveled in such suspicions, the forefront of his brain reminded him that not only had Rexanna chosen to live here in the Edge with him, but also that the Laurelin had returned them their son.

So, with a deep breath to exhale away the jealous poison, his head rose slightly as he spoke, “Thank you Thranduil, I am—we are—” his horn gestured to his mate that clung around the Laurelin, as if using a collective pronoun would reinforce their unity, “forever in your debt. I am glad to offer you a home in the Edge.” Though he spoke the words emphatically, there was a slight flatness beneath them that he could not quite cover.

Finally Mbwene trundled forward, panting with exertion; she stopped alongside Haldir and aimed to lean against the cerndyr as she caught her breath.