WALK ON THROUGH THE WIND

The sun would begin to fall in the sky, the heat of the day falling victim to the treacherous season that engulfed them. The King had been wandering somewhat aimlessly backwards and forwards over the borders, pondering the war that would so steadily rise upon them. He only hoped the power of Glaciem was an even match to the numbers of Valhalla. Though something would catch his interest, first her scent, and then her limping arrival from the corner of his eye; sauntering awkwardly through the gatherings of trees. He would grow worried as he pivoted to gaze upon her struggling form, frowning as he realised the blood stains that battered her pelt.

Initially he would hurry towards her, by whatever miracle still managing some sense of elegance as he would strive to continue until his chest pressed at her shoulder, to stop her, and to bathe her in the worry that had creased his emotions. Though all concern for it having been an attack by wolves was replaced by the taunting stench of deer, her damp pelt clean of any other suggestions of an enemy attack. ?I love you, Argent,? but wait, what? Had he really let such a weakness spill so involuntarily from his lips? But how could he not? She tried so hard for him, staggering home after no doubt attempting an unlikely hunt, after risking her life to please him as she had so many times before. If loving her gave her reason to continue her services, to continue to guide he and his people, then what was the harm in changing his ways for such a motive? Neck would crane as he attempted to push the top of his crown against her nape. Never before had he expressed such a sense of brittle feebleness. It hurt, but it was worth it. Wasn?t it?