Pssst. Brother. Jaxon buries his ears deeper into the tangled ebony tresses ignoring the voice and continues his temper tantrum. "We have company." Jaxon pauses, sand clings to his dark legs and his underbelly, he swivels his head toward the sound. His jaw falls ajar as he recognizes the painted woman from the desert who had so graciously told him to fuck off, if he remembered correctly. He snaps his jaws together.

Just as Jaxon was about to open his mouth to speak, his dark eyes caught another's movements. She moves across the sands with the grace of a desert dweller, he watches her warily as she addresses the painted woman. He takes a step towards the pair, his dark tail whips across his hocks with every step. "Fanc' meetin you her'." The words fall from his dark lips. He can feel the dryness of the desert creeping into every crevice, from his throat to his eyelids. It was as if the desert was wicking away every ounce of moisture that he had left in his body.

He halts within a few feet of the pair, his dark eyes take in the features of the ebon mare. He opens his dry lips to speak. "My nam' is Jaxon." He pauses, swallowing a few drops of saliva before he continues. I am on m' way hom'. And I jus' happene' to stumble across your lovely hom'." He lies. Lovely home? You lie brother Wasn't that the point? How do you tell someone their home is like Hell?