Hoshor Plains unreal unearth

At the (presumed) advice of Arktos, Fjall spent as much time as allowed familiarizing himself to The Herd. So far, he had yet to stir up any resistance to his dandelion presence, and if he were a Disney kid he would’ve taken this to mean that he was Snow White incarnate. But as things were, he just assumed that they could sense his true nature.

He was weaving his way through the loosely packed bison, giving everyone the widest radius possible, when he noticed a pale figure on the goldgrassed sidelines.

Nephele.

His stomach clenched, anxiety flaring at the sight of the striking queen, though he could not identify its source. He picked up his pace to reach her quickly, and his tail wagged submissively, happy to greet her despite his uncertainty. She was a heartstopping creation, he thought, almost too beautiful to behold for long. How are you, Nephele?