And I use Google Translate too, so no worries. xD /wishes she could actually speak Russian ffff. Word Count: 696
Drakien found his gaze captured by the moon; it hung, high and full above his head, looking close enough to touch but, when he stretched a hand out to grasp the wondrous glow, proving to be too far away. He'd long been enchanted by the moon, though the glow he'd once bathed in back home seemed to pale in comparison to the pale light washing over the tall grass of the nearly endless plains he traveled through. His gaze followed a single beam of light as it traveled from its source to the back of his horse's neck, and for a moment he was entranced all over again, running a hand over the pale mane for a moment before a harsh snort drew his attention back to the task at hand.
With a snort of his own, he took a handful of Briexo's mane and pulled the horse's head, guiding him with only minimal effort across the planes. They were a strange sight to see; Drakien himself wore the fur cloak, and the moon played over the bright, warm colors it held, muting them all to blues and silvers. The ram skull from Cai rested atop his head, though he'd tilted it up so that he could see without having to bow his head and look through the eye holes. Briexo, completely unadorned save the brightly colored blanket over his back and the bags tied to his rump, could have passed for the white steed of legend, were he not perhaps more aggressive than any monstrous beast he might ride to face. It was odd, to have the Knight dressed as a monster and the horse more beastly than the image he presented, but Drakien's thoughts didn't linger there long, if they passed that train of thought at all.
The plan had been to travel due north until morning, as they'd set out only that afternoon and neither wolf nor horse were tired. But Drakien had miscalculated somewhere, most probably in the face of the knowledge--or perhaps the ignorance--of the fact that he was on an entirely new continent, and none of the land formations he'd learned about or seen at home would be the same on the other side of the world. It was due to this miscalculation Drakien found himself leading Briexo Northeast, and thus came across the scent of a fire, warm food, and...company. Drakien paused as the smells reached him, and then had to pull sharply at Briexo's mane to get the hard-headed creature to stop, as well. The former warhorse snorted sharply, rolling his eyes and glaring, but after a moment got his way, as Drakien urged him to follow the scents.
It was a good fifteen minutes before he saw what looked to be a cave, or the opening to one, up ahead; and the pair moved toward it at the same slow, down-trodden pace they'd kept for most of their journey. Though Briexo longed to run, and the twitching of his muscles and the occasional quick sprint belied this fact, Drakien would have none of it, and they reached the outcropping on his time. The scents were definitely coming from within, and Drakien dismounted shortly to investigate. There were tracks in the dryed-out ground, leading inside, but none coming out, so he could only assume, from those--and the faint light coming from within--that someone was still there. Curious, he removed the skull from his head, tucking it under one arm, and ducked his head in, looking about.
The cave went deeper than he'd anticipated, and seemed a good place for someone to spend the night, should they decide to camp rather than travel the night through; it was even large enough for a horse of Briexo's size to fit in comfortably. Scratching his ear curiously, Drakien finally took hold of the ring in Briexo's nose and lead him forth, pausing just before entering the rocks to call out, "Greetings? My imyeem v vidu nichego plokhogo." And then, rather belatedly remembering he was no longer in Russia, "We are meaning you no harm. I am being following the scents of your fire."[/html]