†
This part of Paradise is little different from any other: thick tree trunks obscure visibility along with the dense bushes growing rampant despite the dense canopy; the familiar chorus of birds and beasts rattle even this thick air; the soft herald of a horse sounds nearby; the ever-present chirr of insects and the rustling of animals of all sizes as they pass through the undergrowth complete the chorus of the territory.
He pauses, ear ticking left. That voice had not been Shiloh's. Her voice rings clear and true, easily discernible from the usual ruckus. Sonorae, perhaps, and that prompts Temblor toward the source at as quick a pace as the jungle will allow. Not once has the freckled mare asked for him to join her, and while there had not been panic in that call he wonders if her competent survival all these months is more to do with her quiet, fleet-footed ways and less the ability to strike caution into the heart of a hunting cat, and his heart pounds to think that perhaps she needs his help after all.
Temblor pushes through a thick copse of trees and pulls up short, ears cupped forward in surprise to see not the wide-eyed stare of his bloodmarked mare but a pair of strangers standing shoulder to shoulder. His nostrils flare: mares, both, and unfamiliar to him but carrying no tell-tale scent of the ocean's salt, no other scent at all to indicate they have come from somewhere —or someone— else. He believed the jungle to be emptied of its former residents, having scoured the breadth of it more than once not only to ferret out potential loiterers but also ensure Annubis was not skulking about his borders —nor any other stallion, for that matter.
In truth, though, Temblor had had to skip a fair swath on the northern end of Paradise, stymied by a thick curtain of hanging vines on one excursion and sidetracked by Hirka's pleasant company on another. His business had taken him elsewhere for the remainder of autumn and a portion of winter and now, with his herd growing, the Percheron had been heading for the third time toward the Shore with every intent of finally canvassing the neighboring territory.
His eyes pass between the boldly-patched mare and her dark, pale-haired companion, rapidly resigning himself to the reality that this jungle still has its secrets. As he has not reigned here for quite yet a year it should not surprise him that there are still unexplored pockets of his dense, sprawling home, especially as the jungle extends past his own borders. He may well be making needless assumptions about the origin of these unexpected guests. "I heard you call," he says after the slight pause following his entrance. "I am Temblor; can I help you?"
TEMBLOR
& swallows you whole
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