Ni'Srilan: The Desert: somewhere as far away from you as possible; --

“They tried and failed, all of them?”
“Oh, no.” She shook her head. “They tried and died.”

The young stallion gives one great heaving sigh before he rises from his solace within the sands.

He is a scholar and he is within the boundaries of Ni’Srilan. He supposes that it qualifies him for her summons; a supposition not very off-mark.

But he is no more Viper than he is a Bird and, being a horse, he is neither.

Thus it happens that the young old stallion stands under the glaring sun of the desert, the honey-brown of his eyes fasten forward into the distance, his entire body rigid with a natural-born discipline from the proud bearing of his neck to the strong slope of his hindquarters.

Althea respects them; Leto doesn’t respect Althea at all neither knows any reason why he should. He has no answer to give to her question and thus he does not give any; he doesn’t once look at the mare, does not even flit an ear to her direction. But he is there and he is listening and if a derisive smile plays in his lips, it isn’t his father’s – either of them – fault; that is purely Leto, the thing that crawls in the sand and hides in the dunes.

She has asked for him and others and he is there, alright.

Perhaps she’d rather he wasn’t.

leto
of sandworms and fire;