Ysabellanazeka was not of these lands. She belonged to a kin that had dwelled in the extremes of drylands for thousands of years under the promise of their sacred stars. The Empire of the Lion had been a prosperous one for the bandits of the Mount of 1087. Ysabel was certain her dead feather was a star shinning down with pride to see his daughter having taken up the family business and being its first and longest reigning queen. Wars and rebellion were also prosperous. She had built her reputation smuggling traitors in and out of the city, the retrieval of captured souls in the dungeons of the Lion, and other such activities. Their reputation had grown, they received their fair share of spoils of graze lands and rations during droughts. Not even the toppling of the Empire could thwart the minx. Their establishment had fallen to rebel hands, many of her comrades taken or killed. But Ysabel was a survivor and she of course managed to escape. The mare had tried to establish herself elsewhere but one always had to be careful. There was a lovely bounty on her head in the deserts of the now fallen Calphir.
Her travels brought her to the Islands and to the peaks where she was fairly certain she could find a place among the sisters. If she had to prove herself…she most certainly would and with flying colors at that. And so here she was trekking the mounts and making the climb to its upper peaks. Climbing was not a problem, her own peaks were a thrill to run and climb and she was the mistress of its winding paths. The only thing she had testing her patience was the cold. A winter coat had come in but she was not of this land and her coat was not quite made for this environment, thinner than that of the stockier equines. This did not deter her resolve, she had finally reached the top, following a scent that had seemed fresh but fading in the open cold. The winds stung her lungs but she pressed on, keeping her pace regulated and thus forcing warmth into her bones. This was the stuff the Pirate Queen was made of.
The dark form of a well-built mountain woman stood at the edge of the world against the winter winds that blew. Ysabellanazeka paused several paces behind, hoping the winds would disguise her presence but anticipating that nothing got past a vulcan mare. Ears folded just to keep the cold out but she began motioning forward quietly to see if the other would in fact detect her. Faint words became audible but only one in particular. The confident rasp of her voice, coarser on account of the cold posed a question to the other femm. "Are you? Are you the Queen of this mountain?" Ysabel had long been waiting to cross paths with the sisters but she knew her place as an outsider. As winter set in, her own offerings to the peak settled in already to the place, she decided to seek out the lead. Had she found her? She rather hoped otherwise she had made the godforsaken climb for naught.
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