01-02-2025, 12:59 PM
(This post was last modified: 01-02-2025, 05:05 PM by Temujin. Edited 3 times in total.)
Qachuli did not lack courage, for all he had come to despise of him. The horsemen had rallied around their young khaan. Jin had heard their shouts carry into the mouth of his ger. Even Nergui, the wife of his brother he’d so envied— lusted after. Qachuli need only curt words of command. Jin saw the moment had come to ride. Blood brothers and bondsmen, lovers, the best of their tribe, all had turned to him with bared fangs. Jin had earned the precious furs he wore, clad with the blood-mark of the khaan. He knew when to fly for battle— and when to concede.
Far from the majesty of the steppe is this bitter, frozen shore on which he’d awoken. The wind is a roaring devil on the ears though he shows no discomfort. The horseman had borne it for so many months he cannot be sure he feels it anymore.
Hauling to weary paws, he roots along the shore. Painful memories are idle noise when his stomach is aching.
the staff team luvs u