we are aching bones and wasted years; becca, mast, any

[magnus]

Magnus was correct in assuming that it wouldn’t take long for the shifter-King to find them. He glances up in time to see him approaching the duo, and his smile is bright—genuine. It was comforting to know that inside the borders, Heaven still felt as welcoming as ever. It was even more comforting to know that there was a good King leading it. He had worried at first whether or not Mast was the stallion that deserved to wear the crown, as he always worried about the unknown, but as the months had wore on, such concerns had been laid to rest. Something about the shifter reminded him of Bond; that was enough.

He dips his head in greeting, “It is good to see you are still awake, Mast.” It was a good night for it, he thought to himself as he lifted his head to look at the stars beginning to twinkle in the sky—but, then again, the buckskin stallion often thought it was a good night to be awake. If you had to be an insomniac, there were worst places to spend your nights wandering than the gentle beauty of Heaven’s Gates.

Becca’s question brings him back to the present, and he just smiles at her gently. He wasn’t sure if Mast would view the question as intrusive or not, but he had a feeling that the other stallion would be open about his own abilities. It was not often that the gifted horses of Beqanna felt the need to be secretive of what they could do. From what he had seen, they actually enjoyed flexing that muscle. So he just turns toward the king and smiles, a little amused and mostly relaxed, for the first time in who knows how long.