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BEYOND HERE LIES NOTHING
His mentor’s respected partner offered only pleasant response. Accepting his apology as a true lady and sister, Midas’s eyes smiled, the pools mimicking a gentle beam he almost always worn as a trademark expression. Velvet senses remained pressed well forward to catch her soft tones above roaring ocean and gathering shower. He said nothing at first, choosing to instead remain silent and listen to what information his less than honest eavesdropping had missed. The one called, ‘Tor,’ captured his attention, sights turned to regard her kindly while muzzle tipped respectfully at her, ‘hello’.
"I was just telling Cassiopeia about some news I've heard traveling the land. Apparently, the undead have risen in the Spectral Marsh to the west and the ex-Edge is recruiting in the Threshold."
Tone took liberty to sober at the mention of previous Edge; the battle was still fresh upon his mind—and how his talents had gone toward fighting over land. Mixed emotions filled him on this matter, but for magical entities in the Marsh, he thought of Cera; desiring to warn the colt and others to stay away from the area until the rumor was either proven true or placed in myth. The healer paused and then uttered words that would leave him surprised, "Ophelia and Ktulu have formed a band of mercenaries called the Grey. I myself am included among them in the position of healer. We are offering our services to anyone who wishes to use them."
Features flexed and mouth opened in shock. Ktulu? So she wasn’t just running with a band of Outcasts, she was leading a clan of cut throats? Heart tightened, as well as his throat; but outward features pushed a façade forward to mask the onslaught of emotion he suddenly felt. The brief lapse of composure turned again toward pleasant expression, forced pleasant expression. All the while he thought, ‘why didn’t she tell me?’ Such questions couldn’t be answered by the ivory patched draft.
With mind humming like a busy bee he almost didn’t catch their request for shelter. Once their words processed the general realized that water had soaked mane heavy against neck and in cold, silky wet strips. Water dripped across barrel and hip, sliding down the silver metal of his collar. Fur dampened to the point of chill, with droplets falling from forelock and muzzle. He turned head toward the overhang around the bend of previous emergent, “There is a rock formation that will serve as shelter just behind us, or we can head toward oasis and seek shelter among the trees?” Swallowing hard softened tone added, “Your information is useful, I will warn the herd of spectral sightings,” snorting water from flared nostrils he asked, “Do you know what the Grey’s intentions are?”
"I was just telling Cassiopeia about some news I've heard traveling the land. Apparently, the undead have risen in the Spectral Marsh to the west and the ex-Edge is recruiting in the Threshold."
Tone took liberty to sober at the mention of previous Edge; the battle was still fresh upon his mind—and how his talents had gone toward fighting over land. Mixed emotions filled him on this matter, but for magical entities in the Marsh, he thought of Cera; desiring to warn the colt and others to stay away from the area until the rumor was either proven true or placed in myth. The healer paused and then uttered words that would leave him surprised, "Ophelia and Ktulu have formed a band of mercenaries called the Grey. I myself am included among them in the position of healer. We are offering our services to anyone who wishes to use them."
Features flexed and mouth opened in shock. Ktulu? So she wasn’t just running with a band of Outcasts, she was leading a clan of cut throats? Heart tightened, as well as his throat; but outward features pushed a façade forward to mask the onslaught of emotion he suddenly felt. The brief lapse of composure turned again toward pleasant expression, forced pleasant expression. All the while he thought, ‘why didn’t she tell me?’ Such questions couldn’t be answered by the ivory patched draft.
With mind humming like a busy bee he almost didn’t catch their request for shelter. Once their words processed the general realized that water had soaked mane heavy against neck and in cold, silky wet strips. Water dripped across barrel and hip, sliding down the silver metal of his collar. Fur dampened to the point of chill, with droplets falling from forelock and muzzle. He turned head toward the overhang around the bend of previous emergent, “There is a rock formation that will serve as shelter just behind us, or we can head toward oasis and seek shelter among the trees?” Swallowing hard softened tone added, “Your information is useful, I will warn the herd of spectral sightings,” snorting water from flared nostrils he asked, “Do you know what the Grey’s intentions are?”
![[Image: 5388c9b80fe59]](http://images.helovia.net/index.php/view/5388c9b80fe59)
