Rivaini

It felt like Fate had always been grasping for the silver bay - swooping down on her with taloned claws not unlike an eagle’s.

But with each pass that it made - whether by chance or cruelty - its viced grip closed not on Rivaini, but on someone close to her heart. She had chosen to flee the home that been absent of joy and freedom, but it was Iscariot who had nearly died. Together, she and Faolain had claimed the Ridge from beneath its King, and caused the conflict that now existed between Nyimara and Ailil - but it was Siobhan and her family who suffered for their actions. And it was on Rivaini’s suggestion that they had sought such a home to begin with, but the black ‘Teke had taken on the heaviest mantle of responsibility - and now, it seemed, was doomed to bear unspeakable consequences for it.

From the moment that the challenge had been issued, the russet mare had sought any alternative; any road that might lead away from the possibility of Faolain surrendering her body as a vessel for some cold king’s spawn. It wasn’t that she had doubted her companion’s determination or strength - but beside Paradise’s ruler, the slender mare appeared far too small, far too breakable. And inevitably, the worst of her fears had proven themselves to be true. There was only a slim hope that the Ridge’s guardian might manage to best a stallion of Rougaru’s caliber - and fortune had never seemed to favor the ones that she cared for.

Winding her way sinuously through the jungle at her home’s southeastern edge, Rivaini felt like a prisoner on her way to the gallows. Fear filled her lungs instead of air, and dread weighted every single step that she took. But she didn’t turn back, didn’t even look back. Faolain had not seen her slip away so soon after the battle, and the pale-maned Andalusian was hoping that the dark ‘Teke’s wounds would keep her occupied for long enough that she didn’t work out where Rivaini had gone… and why. That Faolain would have forbidden her actions, the tobiano mare did not doubt; at the core of their beings, they were not truly so different, after all.

But over time, Rivaini had come to realize that she loved Faolain. Not the casual affection between friends, but something powerful; something beyond words. And she could not bear to stand by and watch the ones she loved be hurt.

Out of fear of discovery, the silver bay did not announce herself at the invisible line between Paradise and the Ridge as she might have done otherwise. Instead, she continued further inland, following the faint trails of a stallion’s scent and the fainter paths that he’d carved through the thick growth. It wasn’t until she reached a small clearing that she stopped and drew in a shuddering breath. And then, blue eyes falling closed, called out to the reigning King of this place.

While she waited for his arrival, the reddish mare attempted to distract herself from the prevalent flutterings in her chest by observing the jungle that surrounded her. It was not so different than the Ridge, in truth - though more of Çiçek’s favored blossoms grew here than she’d ever seen in the higher altitude of her own home. Perhaps it had something to do with the delicate balance that such beauty required - just the right temperature and humidity needed in order to bring forth life from the tiny buds.

Fortunately, for her own kind things were not so particular. The right season was needed, to be certain - but Rivaini had already felt the stirrings within herself that indicated its arrival. Other than that, no care was needed; no emotion. She did not need to enjoy the act, or feel any kind of affection for the stallion in order for his seed to take hold. And a great fortune - and curse - that truth would prove to be, because the one who held her heart was the same as the woman she sought to spare from the humiliation he’d undoubtedly inflict.

But she wouldn't think of it; couldn't. No, when the moment arrived, Rivaini would close her eyes and think only of Faolain.

mare / five / silver bay tobiano / andalusian mix / 15.3hh