Charlemagne was not normally the type to enter mazes alone. That did not mean he didn’t want to be that type; he did, very badly, but opportunity had so far failed him and if he was being honest, courage was just as likely to do so. But then he’d felt the tug - surely the one that Camdis Lohir had been speaking of - and there was nothing to do but follow it, for how could he not be brave, being here? Hadn’t he run away to become somebody else, someone bold and wise? If he was honest with himself, Florentine’s words played a part, too, burning like a coal in his heart. So it was that he stood before the entrance to the maze, head low and cautious as a deer, green eyes tracing the contours of the new-grown hedges with equal measures wariness and curiosity. There were no monsters within, surely; from what he’d heard, there was a somebody called a Shaman, and oh! Charlemagne was eager enough for answers. Perhaps he waited longer than he should have, hoping to see Camdis’s comforting presence, or anybody else who might also be searching. But the shadows of the maze seemed to beckon, and the wind rustled the branches, and Charlemagne got the feeling that he should wait no longer. A cool breeze brushed past him, twining fingers through his flaxen mane, carrying the thickly verdant scent of the hedge and the lighter, more floral smells of spring. Drawing a deep breath of it, the unicorn tossed his head, the golden horn cutting through the bright day, and stepped into the first yawning hallway of the maze. @Random Events |
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