great clouds rolling over the hills
and if you close your eyes, does it almost feel
Even when he was standing back and watching their mad king attempt to ruin the Kingdom, nearly invisible to the unlooking, she would have been in no danger here. He may have let Mountain do as he pleased as far as politic went, but Brennen wouldn’t have stood by while the mad king hurt an unsuspecting visitor without provocation. Much less one with a child at her side.
He lands far enough away to be non-threatening and walks the rest of the way, folding his wings as he goes. First he looks at her, curiosity mingled with caution in his gaze. The look that lands on the younger of the pair is less cautious, less cold; Brennen is fond of children. They have such potential; admittedly he likes his own the best, but he harbors a soft spot for the children of others, as well. A strange thing for a man who has made his life by fighting, perhaps, but he has never been ordinary.
At a thought, the brisk spring winds that blow fiercely around them are still; he cannot make the physical temperature warmer for their visitors but he can negate some of the outside factors. “Welcome to the Tundra,” he says finally, honey-brown eyes settling on the mare’s face. “I’m Brennen. What can I do for you?”