Many a night Rhone had stood along the cliff side, watching as the sun finally slipped beneath the horizon only to be replaced by the fullness of the moon. He would stand on the edge thinking about his life, both past and present. He thought about his stent as king of the stallion band and of a traditional herd. He reflected about his two past lovers and the children he had sired with each of them. These memories were beautiful and painful and as much as he hated reliving them, he missed them.
Rhone was aging and he had come to Novus to seek a new place to retire. He would not be ruling any kingdoms, not fighting anyone else’s war. Here, he would retire in peace, to live out the rest of his days amongst the company of others. While he wanted to find someone to grow old with, he had a hard time imaging that ever happening for him. Most wanted younger more vibrant men, powerful men, or those with big aspirations. That was not Rhone. He had lived out his prime and made an absolute mess of it. It was high time he just sit back and be himself.
As he looks out over the prairie, he finds peace in it. The crickets are chirping, the does out grazing, and the fireflies lighting up the night. The moon is full and illuminates the fauna that is out and about on this beautiful evening. He finds it peaceful here, a way to relax and reflect.
But then something distracts him. The sound of a coyote (though not really) is projected over the stillness of the prairie. Eyes scan for the source, ears held erect to capture the sound. It happens again and Rhone can see that it’s coming from the far side of the field. He begins to meander towards the sound, curious as to who is mimicking the sound of a coyote and why they are doing so. It was a strange thing to hear.
But as he steps closer, he hears the calling of real coyotes and he looks back behind him. They are closer, much closer than he originally thought. And so, he continues towards the original sound, his feet picking up their pace as he crosses the tall grasses of the field. With his shorter stature, it isn’t hard to miss him coming.
When he get a little closer, he can see that it is another equine who is the source of the coyote calls. It is a winged boy, someone he has never met before. However, the closer he draws to him, the more he smells like Dusk Court. Perhaps he needed to get out more often than he did. "Good evening, sir!" He calls out softly, just loud enough to announce his presence as he comes up alongside the other. "Where did you learn to call out like coyotes? You are quite talented." Sure, it wasn’t the best of greetings, but it was something and he was trying.
