like the sun swallowed up by the earth; beyah & any

[Errant]

when my time comes around lay me gently in the cold dark earth He rarely leaves the Tundra anymore, but as fall closes in on Beqanna the pull of warm weather for just a few hours longer is too hard to resist. Leaving behind the frost of his home, the black stallion takes to the sky with feathered wings that match both his eyes and the thunderclouds overhead. They promise rain, but not until nightfall, and Errant lands gracefully in the Field as the first distant peal of thunder from the north echoes across the vast area. He’s landed a hundred yards or so from a pair of young horses. They look alike enough to be siblings, and Errant offers them each a pleasant nod of greeting and smile. “Hello there,” He says, his voice even and not especially deep. A toss of her dark mane reveals the faintest of silver flashes, the faded outline of a dozen silver snows flakes slowly becoming clear against his raven-black hide. His grey wings do not entirely cover the massive white scarring on his belly and across his withers, but the injuries are old and long ago smoothed to nothing more than discolorations. “My name’s Errant. Where are you two from?” He offers his own age with the natural expectation that they will offer their own in return, and asks the question he feels most appropriate. They might be from anywhere, but knowing if it is at least in Beqanna will change the way he will speak to them. He’s here for a reason, after all, and not merely for small talk. Even if only one of his present company actually belongs in his homeland, he has no qualms with speaking with them both. There are mares in the Tundra after all, even if they hold no real rank. e r r a n t no grave can hold my body down i'll crawl home to her