"With my speechless calm eyes."
It was generally said that old habits die hard. For Brynmor things weren’t any different. Although the times he gave in to chatting with himself – or actually with the imaginary voice in his head – were getting less and less, he sometimes still wandered off to talk with his first friend ever. Since the graying male had gotten his sight back, and thus had learned that his friend didn’t exist, he had stopped replying to the non-existed voice when others were around. But now was one of those moments he spent alone.
Well, that was until the unfamiliar scent of a female reaches him. Because he had been blind for years his other senses were better than average. He follows his nose towards the border, where she apparently was waiting for somebody to come to her. That was something Brynmor appreciated. They didn’t have the wall of ice for nothing, the whole southern border was one big ice wall, except for one gate that those who cannot fly could use to enter.
The formerly blind man sees her as he nears the gate. His eyes take her graying Arabian frame in as he calmly closes the last distance between them. ”Hello there. What brought you to the Tundra?” he asks as he is near enough to be heard. Now he is standing closer Brynmor can see that she has some trouble adjusting to the Tundra’s low temperatures, her coat has not yet thickened to withstand the Tundra’s cold. And it wasn’t even winter yet.
"Nothing is coming to rise."