Everything a nomad needed for survival he carried with him. A fur deel, two bladders, one for streamwater, one for koumiss, dried goat flank, bones and peltskins for trade, and a thinner hide as a ground sheet to make shelter for the night. It is strange to set these things aside for the sake of a more permanent dwelling.

It is strange to feel Saikhanbayar’s presence here. The consequence of it.

The morning sun is a cold copper, risen now over the mount, but the winter air is still frigid and searing the lungs. Batu threads his way into the foothills, through forests of juniper and walnut to the high pastures hemmed in by stone. He would imprint tianlong and its people upon his senses before moving for the grounds of the dragon palace.

---

skill: ghost

Fen would be at it again. Where her carefully placed steps have slipped out from the eyes of those who watch her, from the whispering words of the palace grounds, and where her spirit could soar in the breadth of the unknown. She had sought out the outskirts of the Dynasty, her paws weaving through the trees and the foothills as if she were a spy on some mission sent from above.

Impossible to be found.

Unable to be located.

Hidden.

The words of the man she had met in the wood, of the sand, and of the heat he had experienced, called to her. It interested her so much that her dreams had now begun to imagine a world filled with extraordinary sights and smells—far past any she could realistically create. A sense of urgency pulled at her chest, a feeling she could not shake, as her own adventurous spark flared like a burning pyre within her.

She would not make it to the Desert today.

But Fen’s paws would certainly sneak out from the walls she knew.

Though it be an unfortunate pinch of luck or a coincidence she should have seen coming, the scent of another would bring her paws to a instanteous halt from their once searing run. The Empress’ imperial guard, a scent she knew, and one that made her body bend back into the shadows the trees could promise.

An inaudible curse flared within her mind as an olive-toned gaze searched the path that wove before her. If he found her, would he send her back? Or would he allow Fen this moment of exploration?

But to be a wandering princess without a guard…

She stole away to the shadows of the trees, hoping to hide herself beneath the overgrowth of greenery she could find. Maybe he would not notice her...

An eagle can espy movement from afar, but it’s the princess’ scent, which smells so of perfumed sweetness, that betrays her. A last strap of light slips from the cherub limb and out the corner of one eye wèi jūn glimpses a pair of restive jades.

The nomad pretends not to see. His shoulder rests against a trunk of red pine and he hums lowly in plains-tongue.

“Sloped like my father’s side,
are my happy altai mountains.
Blessed like my mother’s love,
are my eternal sun and sky.”

Eyes see the little princess in her lair, crouching discreetly behind a leaflet veil. They are in shining amusement. It is some small, momentary reprieve from the tear in his chest through which tar seeps.

---

skill: ghost

Fen had fitted herself nicely in between the overgrowth of fronds. The leaves, a manufactured hideaway, as she attempted to stuff her bright-colored body beneath the shadows they wielded. She had thought she had done a decent job, enough so that she held back a chuff of pride that wished to slip from her teeth, when she realized she had been unnoticed.

She almost prided herself on the tantalizing belief that perhaps she could be a spy, an envoy of darkness and mystery. Her father, after all, wished her to think about a direction she’d like to pursue, and this one—this one felt fitting. If the Empress’s imperial guard could not spot her, then who could?

And all was well within the Princess’s mind as she drifted in idle thought, ears half lowered across her skull as a song slipped into the breeze beside them. The man was singing.

And sure, there was the difficult quandary Fen would have to face in due time—the dilemma of how to escape from the man’s prying eyes and ears. But as he wove a tale of song, words dripped in harmonious notes, Fen found herself unable—unwilling—to move.

She always loved good music, and who was she to deny her ears its sweet sound?

And so she had made a deal with herself: as soon as the man was done singing his sweet notes, surely he would be on his way, and Fen would take her chance to disappear once more.

But be it the Celestial Dragon’s will or just poor timing.

It was then that a breeze brushed by.

— but not any type of simple breeze, a gusting bellow that pushed aside her crafty hiding spot, sending dirt and debris, and even the fragments of fallen leaflets straight into the princess’s face.

A squeak fell from her lips then, just as the squirming of her body as she attempted to remove what foliage now stood tangled and strewn in her fur. And her hiding spot? Gone—nothing more than some trampled leaves and kicked up dirt.

Her gaze slowly turned toward the Empress’s Guard, a look of embarrassment and mortification ripe along her features as her stomach sank and her heart hammered loudly. She stood crouched, as if her body still believed to be in hiding, as her ears fell across her skull and an awkward, sheepish giggle fell from her lips.

Fen scrambled to her paws as quickly as a child who feared the consequence of tardiness, and dipped her head into a quiet-minded bow. My apologies, She cooed through a softened note of her own, the heat of her own embarrassment warming the tips of her ears as she spoke. I did not mean to pry, She started again, albeit a little awkwardly, as she politely attempted to clear her throat from the sudden dryness she now experienced. Or leer...Merely, I was just on a walk…and the song you hummed piqued my interest.

It was half the truth, if one could disregard Fen’s previous attempt to slip from the eyes of her own guards to travel the roads of the forest alone.

Please don’t tell my father, She whispered meekly.

The mongol face lay still, considering. But what defense had he against a pair of pale green eyes and a spirited voice which reminded him so keenly not of the han, but of the women of the steppe?

"I am sorry, princess. I have to tell your father something. Now, will it be that the gōngzhǔ was deliberately defying his order by slipping away from her guardsmen? Or, that she was a discerning pupil, and learning the technique to sneak from the mastery of wèi jūn?"

Batu smiles.

In one fell swoop, Fen could feel her breathing stagger, held on the edge of a knife’s point, before expelling from her system in one massive wave of relief. His words had toyed with her, and he had known it. Still, though, Fen could not fault him when she was certainly the one in the wrong.

Especially when it came to the poor sneaking skills she would eventually have to master.

If it had not been for that wind—

Thank you, Wèi Jūn. She exhaled with a dip of her head, as finally the adrenaline coursing through her system began to simmer and loosen what tense muscles she had gathered.

And after a brief moment, Fen’s charming (fiery and mischievous smile) returned to her lips as she raised her gaze toward his. Master Wèi Jūn, She added with a sweep of her tail and another dip of her head, How did I fare in sneaking, before the wind revealed my position to you?

If the bush had not moved, would he have spotted her?

“Very well. You are natural, I suspect, if your inclinations lie toward physical pursuits, princess.” That smile deepens, for now there is passion brightening the eager young eyes.

“In my homeland, no women, not even the royal ones, are kept inside palaces. They learn to cut and hunt with the men, sometimes even riding out into battles alongside them.”

It was dangerous for women to have no more strength than a child. Wives were prized for their fire, for their tongues, and not for the delicacy of their features; the smallness of their feet.

The nomad quiets, intrigued to hear what an imperial princess would make of this.