Sunkiath circled overhead before descending gracefully onto his barren field covered with ash and grey sand. It was near the black rocks and the entrance that led to his nest, underground, twisted tunnels where he'd love to play with his prey. The King slipped down from the saddle, eyes glittering with something strange, triumph, perhaps? Gods knew what he had gained from the Fae realm.
After Sunkiath had healed and regained his strength to fly, he visited the Fae King. But, strangely a fresh wound trailed blood down his arm.
"Let me heal it," Sunkiath offered.
"Not yet. I need it visible. Let them think I've grown weak. After dinner, heal it through the bond."
Sunkiath snorted. His rider was cunning. He walked off with a sly grin stretching across his face.
