Overture Downs winds of east

Morwenna startled faintly at the sound of Sun Eater's chuff, his low sound drawing her sharply from her spiraling thoughts. She blinked, the haze of memory dispersing as she found herself beside him, her silver eyes tracing the powerful lines of his frame, the deep warmth of his presence anchoring her. She followed his gaze, her attention settling on the glistening young bull that stood boldly before an older, seasoned rival.

The scene was almost too poetic, its layers unfolding in her mind. Was this a metaphor? She dared not entertain the thought too deeply. Her gaze flickered briefly to Sun Eater, observing the faint humor in his posture, before returning to the bulls. They circled one another with a rhythm that spoke of both experience and inexperience.

The cows, she murmured, her voice low, as if afraid to break the fragile tension of the moment, will they reject him?

Her words were both a question and an observation, her curiosity piqued. She studied the younger bull again, the sheen of youth unmistakable against the scars of the cows nearby. This was not her world, but Sun Eater's, and in his presence, it felt rich with meaning she sought to understand.