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Nakhtmin was a bloodied warrior, yes, but this did not bar him from being also an appreciator of beauty.

The place where they camped was, in simple words, heavenly. Flowers he had never seen before grew on trees like a blanket of nectar. Royally dark purple and lotus white and every shade between. Some passing herdbeasts had warned him they were not safe to eat, so he appreciated the blossoms only without.

He followed his sacred charge now through a denser patch of magnificently painted woodland, happily bound to her whims, and wished only that she had not chosen a place with so many low hanging branches to explore! His spears were tangled in flower-laden vines, which he found a flattering laurel except that they occasionally entrapped him and required a great tossing of the head to break free.

But he was Nakhtmin! Flowers could not halt him in his goings! Petals and leaves rained down all over the forest floor as the trees rustled. My Princess, I start to believe you brought us here only to amuse yourself in watching me battle these blossoms! He rumbled a laugh. A long strand of Wisteria fell over his forehead as he did so.