Tedros set his bags into position before nickering at the horse. He smiled at the white hybrid as he mounted the mare, stroking the mane of the stallion. Matteo took the lead, but the stallion was right behind the female. Tedros barely had to do any sort of communicating; the formerly named Elvis wanted to be as close to Jericho as possible. And that worked, for now.
The male horse was strong, young, and wild. It had only been a few months since Tedros had last ridden, but his old companion was much different. He had been calm, old, and tired. It had annoyed Tedros at times, when the border needed patrolling but all his horse wanted to do was bury his face in the grassy fields. Whenever it was important, of course, Ted was able to convince the horse to get something done, but he was just a stubborn old male. Quite similar to Tedros at times, in fact.
Matteo spoke, asking the Infernian about his pack. The red coyote looked at Matteo’s light blue orbs, smiling a little before answering. “It’s interesting,” he said, adding a pause before continuing. “It’s both the same and different from when I used to live there. It’s still filled with Lykois,” he said, name-dropping to someone who probably didn’t even know what a Lykoi was. “But they don’t seem to hate wolves quite as much. Most of them are hybrids, now. I remember the racism the amount of racism they used to have, the Lykois. My father, who led Inferni for a while, never seemed to be quite racist enough for them. But maybe he made more of a difference than I thought.” He stopped speaking, realizing that he had been rambling quite a bit. He wasn’t usually that much of a talker. So he changed the subject.
“Anyway, where are you from?”
Image courtesy of seyed mostafa zamani & DyingBeautyStock
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