e n c a n t a d o r
The minutes tick on, and slowly but surely, the engulfing depression that Encantador feels lodged in his chest begins to lighten. El Aran's words are a balm to his inner sufferings, filling him with strength and hope. Perhaps she doesn't hate me after all, he thinks with a wry smirk, and glances sideways at his lead mare to watch her in silent gratitude. It's refreshing to hear that she's as committed to this herd as he is, and that she doesn't plan on letting it unravel in the absence of Dany. He can only hope that she will stick to her words and not let the missing piece of their family continue to test their relations.
On a whim, Canta pivots to face her and rests his chin on her withers. He closes his eyes to relish the feeling of her warm, sturdy back while he can, fully expecting that she'll pull away at any moment. "Thank you," he murmurs into the air, and shifts his stance to nibble at the black strands of El Aran's mane. "There is something else," he finally adds, and pulls away to meet the mare's eyes again with a sheepish expression. "I've been thinking. And, well..." Just spit it out. "I was thinking about challenging for Salem kingship. Not just for the glory or power, I don't care about that. I mean, I think if there's one way to we can make our home even safer and more secure, it's to have our neighbors respecting us and watching our backs. The thing is..." He swallows.
"...I don't have a great deal of experience in... you know." Encantador shifts his weight and chuckles to disguise his nerves. "Kicking tail."
six-year-old stallion of the desert; son of el barroco and writhe
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