10-14-2017, 10:48 AM
 i'll use you as a makeshift gauge of how much to give and how much to take
Though she’d taken to the air in her departure, @[Karaugh] had not lingered overlong in Loess, and it is not difficult to follow her trail. The smoky black stallion knows that Heda will make her own decision regarding this uncharacteristic invitation to Sylva. He intends to honor that decision, though he is reluctant to allow her to cross into the autumnal woods without his protection. The type of debauchery that the buckskin mare had suggested is not something that he wishes for Heda. She is soft and sweet and gentle, and she is his. Ivar can still feel the soft press of emotion she’d given him, that delightful bit of love. To damage that seems unfathomable, and so there are things that he must do, safeguards he must put in place. This is one such safeguard, Ivar knows. The hills begin to decrease in size the farther south he goes, and the summer-green flora is scattered here and there with out-of-place autumn gold. This is the no man’s land between Loess and Sylva, and once he’s well within it, Ivar turns west, where the mountains reach into the sky along the coast. This is not the way she’d come, but he is not following a trail so much as a hunch. It’s correct, he knows, and is certain of it when he catches a familiar scent. It is not fresh, but as he walks the border and climbs higher into the mountains, it becomes stranger, layered by time and frequency. Karaugh’s lair is somewhere near, and if she is not here she will return soon. Perhaps she is reporting on her journey to her red-eyed king, and the idea makes a dark sort of smile flicker across Ivar’s pale face. |