For the first time in as long as she can remember, Nyimara feels torn between the desire of her heart and her loyalty to her father. Rougaru had been furious when she told him of Bjorn’s withdraw from the alliance. For a moment she had feared that father would demand her return to his herd until such times that a more fitting companion could be found. However she had been sly in her words then, careful in how she colored his vision with talk of withdrawing his control of the island for surely Bjorn would fight to keep her. She was careful to whisper the words that his son… her son, was Bjorn’s heir and that were he to severe that alliance it might too severe his blood ties with the herd of the Ridge. Careful had she been with Nyimara reminded Rougaru that there was more at risk than the possibility of losing a battle ally. For the moment it seemed to sate the chocolate wolf, but it did little to satisfy the gnawing unease in her heart.



She was not the fighter father was, her skills lay with her twisting of words and sly tongue. But it was her father that had taught her those cunning words, the desire to rise above the faceless masses and become something unforgettable in the eyes of all. She had learned, slowly but surely through the islands how to fight for her rights. Every battle with Ysabel, every skirmish with Tigerlily, even sparing here and there with father along the borders, it was training her to become a fierce combatant. She needed to be better. However then there was Sigurdr. Her beautiful, bright-eyed boy. Sigurdr. Like a moth to a flame she felt drawn to him, determined to protect and nurture and guide him in the ways of the world and ensure that he too rose above the faceless mass into the true prince of the north that he was. Her Sigurdr. Her valor. Thinking of him now brings a warmth to her heart, a comfort to the fleet footed wit of her soul. One glance into his eyes of pale blue had a way of cooling the burning embers of her fiery soul. Her Sigurdr.



A soft sigh blows from her lips as she bobs her head now. Thick wind tangled locks of silver white tumble haphazardly down the chiseled curve of her cheek, veiling the bright amber of her eyes from view. As much as she disdained leaving her precious son under the protection of others, she knew without a doubt that Bjorn would keep him safe as he always did. He would be angry of course, but she could not simply let Rougaru go into war without her. Bjorn might feel comfortable with backing out of the deal, but she, she was determined to see his word stand strong. Even if it was only she to represent the Ridge she would represent them with her finely shaped head held high and pride gleaming in those dark pools.



Sigurdr.



She could not leave. Not yet.



Softly the lilted tone near a whine threatens to spew past her closed lips. How her heart tugged her in both directions. She would go. She would fight with the strength and cunning of a fierce lioness and she would bring pride to the name for which she stood. Dark russet colored ears fall backwards as she turns to her darling son, her painted boy of blue and white and black hues. His startling eyes of blue, a touch lighter than his own sire’s were a beacon in her dark night. Her Sigurdr. “My princeling…” she purrs, her voice softened silk as she comes to him now, her velvet soft muzzle reaching to trace the soft feathered wisp of his growing mane. ”I must go with your saba (grandfather) for a while. I promise I won’t be gone for long, a day or two at the most.” she begins, pausing in her words as those depthless amber ooids cast a solemn gaze over the rolling swells that beckoned at the horizon. A small smile tugs at her dark lips as she blinks warmly, returning her gaze once more to the small boy, pride gleaming with every tender blink. ”Keep to your father’s shadow, follow his law and watch for my return.” she murmurs, tracing her lips along the black line that ran down the length of his spine. Her heart beckoned her stay and yet the loyalty she felt for her sire demanded her go. ’I must do this…’ the words hang in her throat now as she shares the moment of silent peace with her firstborne…