Duskfire Glacier riders of

lord. father. sire. 

it was with pride that felaróf bent his head beneath the muzzy tide of time and landscape, and cantered into the wolven ridges of a new world. the darkened honey of his gaze beheld the land beyond the glacier. "it is a good thing," felaróf told himself in the old language known only to the mearas. "a fine thing."

at his hocks the silken moonwater of his plume flicked, brushing the earth as the horselord began to seek out any remnants of his kind in the muted dusk.