kreios
don't you tame your demons, but always keep them on a leash The nights here are warmer than they are in either of my homeland. The temperature there drops with the sun, and while I will enver considering leaving them permanently, there is something pleasant about a warm night. Spring has only just come to BEqanna and many of the residents are still shedding their winter coats.
I see one such mare, looking like silver in the moonlight. I’ve not grown a winter coat since I reached adulthood; snow does not fall in the Desert or the Orange Country. I can remember it, falling soft and white in the Dale, but I prefer warmth year round and the lack of worry about available food. The mare appears to be looking at herself in the still pool of water, and so for a time I leave her to her contemplations, not wishing to interrupt.
Since I see no one else with her I do finally approach, careful to move slowly. I’ve been told I’m rather imposing and I believe it; spiraling horns, impressive height and a brightly colored hide make it hard for me to be missed in a crowd. “Hello,” I say with a friendly smile, settling a comfortable distance away from her – not too close that she’s pressured, but near enough for ease of conversation.
It had taken me a while to adjust to the differences between recruiting for a kingdom and finding mare for a herd. For the Desert, a willingness to serve and remain loyal are necessary, and the ability to fight and speak properly are always desirable. For a herd mare I need only one that is willing to live with me (and I’ve heard some stallions don’t even bother with the willingness part), and all other attributes are only cosmetic. Someone that gets along with others, I’ve learned, and who is not bothered that I cannot devote myself entirely to them alone. I serve the Desert still, and while I do split my time between the kingdom and my herd, that split time is for her herd and not a single mare in it. I’m fond of them all, of course, but each day spent as a herd stallion makes the concept of the monogamous love between my parents more and more unfathomable.
“I’m Kreios,” I add, “from Orange Country.” Closer, I realize exactly how much smaller than I am she is. She reminds me a little of Pevensie despite the obvious differences in color. “What’s your name?”
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