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.

Just a cameo from me. :)

Artax did not know that the powers that be had named him after a horse. But it would have been an interesting fact to know right about now. He was observing the creature from a distance. He had seen one before. Actually, he had seen a whole herd of them before. It had been years ago, but he remembered enough that staying away was better than getting close, especially if he was on his own. If he'd had others with him, he might try and interest them in the hunt, but that simply wasn't the case for the wayward Eyjolfur.

The strange hoofed creature would not last long here, judging on the amount of pack scents that laced the earth. Sooner or later, it would be captured and made into dinner.

But that wasn't Jorma's problem, and so he retreated, being careful to avoid the horse's gaze.

<3

there were no scents here beyond those of the insouciant wargs. he snorted and raised his head, this horselord somehow mistranslated into this weald. a flick of his tail, a blink that assured him none of the malevolent beasts were present. 

felaróf cambered onward.