Fairspell Meadow In the footsteps of jackals

Samirseti reclined near the edge of the frostkissed meadow, his long legs stretched lazily before him and his chin resting on crossed paws. The cold earth pressed up against his belly, but he barely noticed, warmed instead by the faint thrill of solitude. Above, the clouds shifted and danced, revealing glimpses of the moonlight that bathed the meadow in pale silver.

He yawned, ears flicking at the faint sounds of the night. His eyes half-lidded, Samir appeared almost indifferent to the world around him—but his posture was far from careless. There was always a purpose, even in his stillness.

The prince’s golden gaze turned briefly toward the shadows beyond, sharp and expectant. Come morn, Samirseti would set off and finish his journey to Akashingo.

There, his uncle, unknowingly awaited him. A surprise visit.

A surprise stay.