A slight blush

  They crest the black stone hill, heels guiding the Eratora to a stop over the scrublands that look upon the massive lake. Their journey has taken them far and wide, but they are here now, with barely a day's ride to catch up to their quarry - the man who had stolen her heart in Saburra. The misunderstanding at the evening market that had sent him fleeing still weighed heavily upon her heart - and the man atop the bird beside her would not help with that misunderstanding.
  Vortund reaches out to pat the neck of her bird, giving its feathers a deep ruffle as the limestone white eyes stare unblinkingly at her. "He/fool is down there/distant. I can smell/taste his desires/wants and your presence/love is part of it."
  "Then why does Browendale flee?" She can feel her brow furrowed in an unladylike fashion, lips pursed as she looks at her travelling companion, and ex-lover. She is reminded of the good times they have had together, even as the city council have arranged the mating of him with their favourite socialite. And yet he had taken after her like there was a chord binding their waists the moment she had bolted from Saburra, as if his responsibilities meant nothing. Her heart skips a beat every time her mind recalls that fact and she feels the urge to seal her lips to his in gratitude and residual love. Even as they ride after Browendale.
  Sunlight catches over his rugged face, determination in the lines on his perfect face and she knows he is here to help her make the match with the love of her now.
  She squeezes her thighs and the Eratora springs into motion, heading towards the setting Debron, the orange and pink light washing the wetlands in a mystic glow. Scrub and wet muddy earth greets her mount, each step turning from a long purposeful stride into a slowed and faux-languid hop. Talons push and squelch into the muck and Ebony worries for the 8 foot bear who came before them.
  "We are not/doubt going to catch/search for him if we directly/slowly follow his path. Do you know/feel where he will be headed/flee-to?" Vortund leans closer to her, speaking low as he brings his Eratora to her side while her wild green hair streams behind her, caught in the pinks of the darkening sky, the chill in the air catching her in its menacing grasp. She aches to stop and snuggle by the fire-blossom, but each moment she wastes takes the man who captures her heart farther away.
  Oh Olari give her strength. The magic inside her courses with potency as she imagines catching Browendale and professing her love to him, the fantasy keeping her warm even as the cool air of this journey south has her body shaking from going between such diverse biomes. The desert sun is such a change to these wetland nights, the cries of the Zuma Birds bringing her back to these muddy evenings, as she gives Vortund a nod, pushing them even more south to return to the straighter paths of the low-bush.
 

---

  Night turns to day, and as the dawn breaks, and Morticia meets the sky, Ebony is jostled awake by her demon companion as his thigh knocks hers before her face meets the harsh limestone path they now travel. Debron is already chasing shadows through the sparse trees and she turns to watch Vortund take a deep whiff, following a trail only he seems to know. His gaze is determined and she is reminded why she felt such deep emotions for him for all these years and why he's been such a good ally in the time since.
  "Have you met with your beloved yet?" She asks, seeking to break the silence, seeking to remind herself of why she cannot have both men in her life and in her bed.
  "You/beloved were from her city/home, don't you know/recognise her/promised?" Vortund offers, voice neutral though laced with old emotions and new hope, not rising to her pushing and prodding. She doesn't want to answer that, a city mage and not the social elite that his new beloved is meant to be. Ebony knows he adores aesthetics and the socialite is from the land of shining gowns and shining skin.
  They move in unanswered silence for a little more, even as the bond between them strains. "I think/hope we can stay/strengthen friends, once we find/meet them/reluctance."
  "I hope so too. You've been good to me." The bubble pops and her mind clears, knowing she can focus on the future - letting this echo between them fade as the waters clear. Leaving things clear and still as mud.