Dante watched in silence as the unknown mare began to approach them. She was boldly marked, splashed with white all over, but her mane and tail were a rich coal-black; he could tell from her face that she was young, but so was he. He returned the stranger’s polite head bob, but allowed her to make the first move in conversation, which she did with a hasty apology.

He welcomed her with a warm smile as his other companion introducing herself, mentally recording both of their names. Aria and Rhaella: they rolled off the tongue nicely enough. And Aeros, whoever that was. He made sure to add that, too, to the list of names he planned to ask Rhaella about at the next available opportunity.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m Dante,” he greeted pleasantly.

As he talked he could feel Rhaella’s eyes on him, with that sixth sense that all creatures seemed to possess. She looked away soon enough, but he did not turn to catch her staring, unwilling to make her feel uncomfortable. He didn’t mind the curiosity; it was understandable.

“Is your father Hollowpoint?” Dante asked, continuing the conversation easily.

He only knew of two leaders of the Paradise: the man who had forfeited the territory to him a few months ago, and Altair, the legendary king in his grandfather’s day. But the latter hadn’t been around for several years, so it was unlikely she was a long lost relative on his.

DANTE
a man possessed of some radical notions