Spring had finally come.
The first season of Cheri's rule had so far been quiet, and Tarian indulged himself in the monotony of it. (It might have bothered him when he had been a younger stallion, but now he is glad for the peace. He is grateful that his child will be born into calm rather than conquest.) His patrols continued, and as the warmth began to thaw out the canyons and crevices of Loess, new life had started to emerge. The Altissimas by the coast were blooming again.
Storms had begun to blow through again, and it had been the distant tremble of thunder that had accompanied his morning route.
Wildling is often on his mind, and Tarian found that his duties as Champion were becoming harder and harder. Each time he left, there was an impending sense of dread. He tried not to show it much; Tarian was often aloof with his feelings, but with each step he took away from their small cavern, Tarian battled a growing fear for Altissima each time he left her behind. What if something happened? What if she went into labor and something went wrong?
He had been an able-minded General. Tarian could look at battlefields and measure up opponents (unless they had magical abilities to turn into an alligator). He knew how to fight - how to angle and pivot and turn his body so that it might injure another.
Tarian had no clue on what do where it concerned Altissima, especially the way her lithe frame had seemed to have doubled over the coming weeks.
"Altissima?" he called out as he approached their small corner of Loess, and the baritone of his voice echoed against the sandstone. The silver pegasus had taken to doing this upon each return, not wanting to startle her. Not when it could prompt the arrival of their unborn child.
TARIAN
@Altissima