don't you dare forget; magnus, please.

[magnus]

magnus

howling ghosts, they reappear
in mountains that are stacked with fear

It feels good to run—to stretch outward, to feel himself cover the land with strong, solid lunges. The sand shifts beneath his weight, reacting to the heavy fall of his hooves as they run. He feels her shifting next to him, and he laughs when he catches sight of the hummingbird by his side, the way it flutters in and out of his line of vision. He can imagine that she is enjoying the wind in her face, the same way that he enjoys the freedom that is exploding in his chest, the joy that is unlocking in him so easily.

As she dances in front of him, he lifts his head upward, looking at her with his bright gold-flecked eyes. She looks so happy in this moment, so free, and he appreciates that she has given him this moment, this chance to just indulge in the company of another without having to worry about anything else. He didn’t often get the chance to let himself relax, to not worry about his duties and responsibilities, but he did now.

When the wind pulls her across his brow and then buries her in the thicket of his mane, he curls his head back and nickers, humor caught in the sound of his laugh as it carries back to her. He doesn’t stop his pace though, trusting her to right herself, and when she does, he feels the strength of her feet digging into his mane and forelock. “Hold on, little bird,” he growls into the wind, rocking back just slightly and then pushing off the sand, powerful body rocketing forward under the sun. “We still have the sun to catch.”

And then, without another word, he levels out, letting the speed and the sun and wind speak for him.

but you're a king and I'm a lionheart