He never would have approached had the stallion not been sleeping, had the meadow not been thick with flowers and the slow drunken drone of bees - had he been paying attention at all. But Charlemagne’s heart was too full to take care; his blood was bounding, for though he did not yet know this was his court, something in him knew he was close at last. The sunlight was full and golden, the clouds drifted lazily by, and the unicorn was too joyful to be cautious. Ergo as he came, fairly skipping through the flowers that nodded drowsy heads as he passed by, he very nearly tripped on one of the huge curled horns. He leapt just in time with a startled “Oh!,” clearing the figure, and whirled to stare, aghast, at the huge stranger in the grass. His heart seemed to be intent on doubling its previous rhythm; had the stallion not blinked sleepy eyes open, Charlemagne might very well have turned and fled. It was clear by their trembling that his skinny legs still hoped to run, but the liver chestnut stood his ground, chewing his lip anxiously. Surely a bad thing could not happen to him in what was clearly a good place. His kingdom and its bloodlust were weeks behind him. Here, there could be nothing to fear. But his eyes still lighted, skittish as a butterfly, on the horns, the hooves, the coloring like blood. A new thought struck him: that Novus was not a haven of teachers and searchers, after all, but a place very like the one he’d left. Flicking his ears back and forward again, he extended his neck, huffing a breath toward the much larger male. His own horn gleamed like a scythe, but Charlemagne was long past the point of thinking of it as a weapon. “Do you live here?” he asked at last, tensed and ready to spring away. @Camdis |
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