Silver Creek my father was a king and a son of kings

they both were reticent to approach each other. only natural—you never knew who you would run into on the road. from his experience, aditya knew most souls were good ones and meant no harm. . .but the ones that did mean harm were brutal, and often inflicted it without warning. he gave a nod to her wordless greeting, allowing a small smile to show upon his muzzle.

namaste, behen, he offered. if she were family, he'd see familiarity light in her eyes, perhaps something in return, offered in his mother's tongue. if not, no harm, no foul; he'd simply change course.

but then, if she were family, would she know rajendra? adi shivered slightly (glad he could pass it off as the cold) at the thought of the dark man, and old scars suddenly burned again. he would not, could not, put his daughter in danger. any child of his that wasn't radha's could be harmed by his old rival.