IF YOU COULD ONLY SEE THE BEAST YOU'VE MADE OF ME
There was a scent on the air and it was one Hound knew well. Rougaru. The burly scarred beast found himself fighting against the churning waves on his way to the desert, though he had no idea what to expect. Despite his age and the increased greying along his face and jaw, Hound was still a sight to see. Muscles rippled beneath his stained roan coat and the the sour expression on his face did nothing to take away from the rugged charm to his face. His ears, or what was left of them, were pinned against the thick curl of his nape when he finally arrived on the desert's shores.
It was not love that drove him to seek out his son, or anything of the sort. Hound's indifference toward his children, especially his daughters, came as no surprise to anyone who spent much time with him. He reserved attention for the standout colts (Rougaru included), but even then it was not love that kept him going. Hound wanted to be known. He wanted to die knowing his legacy was safe in the hands of his children. Fillies could not give him that; but a good strong colt could carry his name with pride. Rougaru did not make him proud of swell his chest with fatherly love, but he did enough. Between Rougaru and Mutt he supposed his legacy was safe enough. There were always disappointments, of course, and not all of them had survived.
Some at his own hand.
Hound's displeasure was written on his face as he stared across the vast emptiness of the desert. It was no Sturm, and it was certainly no Ora. Hound tucked his nose to his chest, inhaling the scent of the ocean water that still clung to him. It was a comfort. This was a pit. A pit of despair, as far as he was concerned. He hated the way it made him sweat when he wasn't even doing anything.
He needed a nap.
In true Hound fashion the scarred stallion began scuttling around in the shade, kicking at rocks and searching for a suitable place to lie down. Back in Ora he'd had a comfortable corner behind some rocks and every woman and child knew never to disturb the king while he slept. He was no king now, but he still deserved a nap. He lowered himself with a grunt against the trunk of the largest tree he could find, lids falling closed over dark eyes.
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