06-05-2015, 12:09 PM
She’s trailing Rhy, as she had volunteered to do, but this is the first time that she’s been north of the Jungle, and the temperate climate is fascinating. She’s not sweating, but by the time she reaches the Tundra she is shivering, unaccustomed to the chill and lack of humidity in the air. Having been distracted by a small flock of ptarmigans, Ephrelle is somewhat late to the meeting, and arrives at Rhy’s side as she is being greeted by an unfamiliar black stallion. Having only met a single male (and that her brother), the varnish roan filly is intrigues. She knows better than to say anything though, and bites her tongue. She does smile at the black stranger and then at Rhy, hopeful that she is doing all right despite the fact that this is her first diplomatic mission.
When the older Amazon asks about Errant, Ephrelle’s dark ears prick up curiously. She thinks of her mother, who has told her stories of Errant. He is her great-grandfather, she knows, and he had ruled the Tundra before Ephrelle (and Dorne) were even born. He had left the throne to his son, Ephrelle’s great uncle Ianto, but it seems that things have changed. It occurs to Ephrelle for the first time that she might not be able to rely on others. She might need to find things out for herself.
Shaking a shiver off of her varnish hide, Ephrelle waits for the black horses’ answer, curious to see if he will lead them to her ancestor and wondering what King Errant must be like. If he’s anything like this stallion, she supposes he must be very powerful. “I’m Ephrelle,” she adds, in case her name is important – though she doubts it.
When the older Amazon asks about Errant, Ephrelle’s dark ears prick up curiously. She thinks of her mother, who has told her stories of Errant. He is her great-grandfather, she knows, and he had ruled the Tundra before Ephrelle (and Dorne) were even born. He had left the throne to his son, Ephrelle’s great uncle Ianto, but it seems that things have changed. It occurs to Ephrelle for the first time that she might not be able to rely on others. She might need to find things out for herself.
Shaking a shiver off of her varnish hide, Ephrelle waits for the black horses’ answer, curious to see if he will lead them to her ancestor and wondering what King Errant must be like. If he’s anything like this stallion, she supposes he must be very powerful. “I’m Ephrelle,” she adds, in case her name is important – though she doubts it.
ephrelle
of the amazons