A breeze stirs the grass, throwing pollen into the air. Solma sneezes. Beside her, Burdock pricks up his ears, turns to nuzzle her. She strokes his velvety muzzle.
“I’m alright,” she says.
The pony returns his attention to plodding. They passed into High Savannah Province a few days ago and the land has flattened out. The grass is short and stiff, cropped by the grazing of huge herbivores. Solma’s never seen anything so massive in all her life. Cobra says they’re managed by the locals for game, which makes Solma balk. Hunting a giant boar is bad enough. But these things?
The animals are broad-shouldered and muscular, with short, tan hair and whipping, bristled tails. Their cloven hooves kick up dust and they toss their horned heads, snorting steam if the travellers get too close. Thei
