To say that the petite mare of chocolate hues was pleased that father had so willingly given up her custody to Bjorn was perhaps an understatement. She was ecstatic. Of course not that she would ever let the smoke colored stallion or her sire know that. To them, she had made certain to keep that mask of indifference firmly in place. The glimmer in her eye… well that was not something she could control. Those depthless auburn pools of hers forever gaze away the turmoil of emotions that arose within her. Pleasure enraptured her at father’s acquiescent. She had not expected it to come nearly as easily as it had. Oh course she was not exactly pleased to be passed off as some prized broodmare or a piece of flesh ripe for the taking, but well, she had a feeling Bjorn knew better than to comment on that. At least, if he didn’t now, he would know soon enough.


She had bent her head then, reached forward to nuzzle her sire’s whiskered muzzle, lipping affectionately at the wiry hairs that ran along his graying muzzle. ”I will visit you soon Abba.” she had murmured, not caring whether Bjorn overheard or not. For as stubborn and hardheaded as her sire could be, for all the poor choices he made, the decisions she never agreed with, she was still that girl who adored her father. Dark lashes blink affectionately up into his deep emerald eyes, for the briefest of moments ignoring the presence of the very stallion who had stirred those buried emotions to life as a stiff breeze to a dying ember. She gives Rougaru one final impish grin, the grin of a mischievous child, and then she turns her attention to Bjorn. Her future. Well, her immediate future.


With the flick of her silver white tail she is off. She would never be the meek little sheep, never the innocent child cowed into submission by brutish nature and hard handed men. Always she had been her own creature and that habit would not be one easily broken. Lithe limbs propel her through the shallow surf, spray of sand and ocean water trailing in her wake. Ash dusted nostrils quiver with anticipation as she allows her lean form to stretch beneath her, reveling in the newfound freedom and gladly exercising that right. Sure she knew that Bjorn might have his own rules and regulations, but who’s to say she could not somehow bend them to her own likings? Pale feathered sandpipers scatter from her thundering hooves, their indignant squeaking voice met with deaf ears. The tide was on its way back out to sea now, the path to the ridge cleared from obstruction save for the occasional jutting rock worn jagged by the years of constant weathering the tides. Nyimara knew this island, knew Paradise like she knew the front of her own hooves. The Ridge, well aside from the open expanse of the shores and perhaps a foot or two beyond the borders with Paradise, it was still foreign territory. She had planned to explore the then empty territory, to learn its secret pathways and hidden trails visible only in to those who sought to find them. However Liland had thrown a wrench into that plan. The damned stallion had come and, being father’s self-proclaimed enemy, Rougaru had forbidden her from crossing over the borders. Of course Nyimara tested that rule, she crossed the border time and again but never far beyond it. She might be young and stubborn, but she was no foolish filly. She knew that the pale stallion would not feel the least bit of guilt were he to find her rip for the taking. She made sure he hadn’t, but still… it had limited her experience.


Not now.


Excitement thrummed through her veins as she broke past the final expanse of white sands, as thick cliffs of porous rocks towered above her like looming giants. Small ears perk curiously as she lets her gaze drift up the cliffs in awe and amazement. How exhilarating the view from the top must be. Despite herself she shivers, imagining that those lonely clifftops held their own fair share of memories, horses long sense faded beyond memory. How many had leapt from those cliffs into the white capped surf? How many had gazed hypnotized by the churning waters with sadness in their eyes? How many had longed for a different life? She sighed. That would not be her. She would be those remembered, the ones who stared beyond the crashing waves and to the horizon beyond. She would always be the one who saw her life as one to live, and one to be built into one she desired it to be.



Patiently she waits for Bjorn to join her, dark eyes gleaming with delight. An impish smile ghosts across her ash dusted lips as dished muzzle is lifted to catch the billowing zephyrs that twin invisible fingers through her silver white tresses. ”Tick tock, tick tock, Bjorn.” she teases, unusually long tail flicking impatiently against the feminine curve of her hips. ”Time runs short with so much to see, so many to meet.” she murmurs, her lyrical tones honey coated and thick with meaning. Playfully she giggles, proud head tossing as thin limbs prance impatiently beneath her. This day could not get much better than this.