Of Hamilton & Yasmine
Patiently he waits along the shoreline, the long hours ticking away, until low tide comes and he can pick his way across to the island as he moves from sandbar to sandbar. When Voltage's hooves settle themselves into the dry sand of his destination, he looks about with interest. Ischia, he muses, had been one of his two choices back in the Field. He doesn't regret how things had turned out though; life in Sylva under Gryffen's reign was definitely turning out to be interesting so far, and none of the dullness he so dreaded enduring day to day in pastoral surroundings. As he had done in Tephra, he repeats here the act of a mental headcount to learn how many have come to call the tropical island home, along with whatever random facts might be floating on the top of resident equine minds.There are fewer mind-sparks here than there had been in the volcanic land, fewer of those treasure troves he so loved to plunder, and he does not sense the answering contact of Kharon, the telepath he had encountered in the Field. Had he moved on, left Beqanna? Evidently. He does manage to pluck out this land's ruler's name out of a random mind. Ea? An unusual name indeed. Voltage sets his gaze upon the greenery directly across from him, calling out with a loud neigh to announce his presence to any who might be hidden within the jungle's reaches. Anyone other than the parrots, that was. They were quite chatty, both verbally, with their endless squawking, and in their little avian minds. They didn't have much in the way of intelligent thoughts to pick up on, however. Mostly thoughts about food or mating or rowdy hatchlings who refused to would rather stay up all night playing than going to sleep when their parents wished. The bay fidgets, ever so slightly, as he waits atop the warm sands, eager to get back to Sylva and see just what would be unfolding during the autumn festival.
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