Two men rode into an open field, and stopped just in front of a border. The first man rode atop a regal white stallion-obviously purebred by the refined manner in which it made its slow high-stepping gait. Its muscles rippled beneath its sleek gleaming coat as it moved.
He pulled his hood off, revealing lustrous curly raven-black hair. As keen eyes surveyed his environment, his lips curled in a disdainful sneer. He adeptly dismounted his horse, then drew his towering frame to its usual height.
A hand of his stroked at the velvety coat of his horse as he continued to look all around him, contempt clearly written in his deep, deep black eyes.
A soft wind moaned past, ruffling through the second man's dark brown hair as he followed suit. “So this is Zoar?”He said. His curious grey eyes seemed to light up. “It isn't so bad, your highness.”
Turning his raven-black head, the prince gave him a malevolent glare, and his chuckle morphed into a slight cough.
