Nine-year old Corsair Sedrid sulked as he sat on the step to the farmer’s home, the bottom of his snout resting on both paws. The snow seemed to sympathise with him, delicately filtering down from above, but he was too upset to notice it.
His brother was infatuated with the ictharr pups rushing around in the yard, all swarming him when he entered and making feeble attempts to stand on their hind legs. He admitted they were adorable to watch run around and play but he didn’t like any of them. He imagined that he would feel some sort of connection to the one he wanted. It was what everyone said about selecting his own ictharr, who would be his companion for at least 60 years.
But nothing resonated with him. They’d exhausted every farm, every breeding settlement, every market. None offered
