A Myth On Four Legs

Slogging steps and movement sent the great, horned, white head swinging around, his light intensifying for a brief moment as his heart-rate leapt in a natural reaction to the unexpected. It dimmed once more to the soft, steady, slightly pulsing glow as he spotted the wolf.

For a heartbeat he watched her stare, his ears pricked within the silken shimmer of forelock and mane until the wolf began to draw closer, her soft voice calling out to him.

“It would be utterly churlish and cruel of me to deny you, Lady. Please, get out of the mud a while.” His voice was a deep bass rumble, warm and gentle, educated English with a subtle flavor of a lilt. His luminescent features were kind as he gazed down at the wolf, shifting his hooves to offer move space on the mound of dry – relatively – earth, thick tail flicking amiably over his flank.

His fine neck arched as he ducked his head around to study her, the skin about his eyes crinkling into an easy expression of friendliness, lips twitching at the corners as he added, “I am Taliesyn. Quite the festering place this is, isn’t it?”

His gaze shifted to the surrounding bog and shadowed trees, the nearest faintly lit by his own form, finishing, “I’ve every intention of finding my way out come the dawn.”

Walk ---- "Speak" ---- "Hear" ---- Think