Nyimara finds herself once more drawn to the home she has made in the savanna. While she has full intentions of raking justice across every inch of Faolain’s dark hide, the swelling baby in her belly is enough to stop her. At least for now.

Her visit with Rougaru had been beneficial to say the least. Educational even. The old wolf was still strong as ever and his herd was filled with fiery mares that she would gladly have at her own side were it not for their loyalties already being tied elsewhere. The biggest realization that had hit her when visiting Paradise was the sense of companionship that she had long been parted from. Shenzi’s captivity in the Lagoon had hurt, her refusal to escape with Nyimara when the silver haired woman came for her had hurt, even the loss of Bjorn had hurt. Blow by blow she had taken them, taken the rejections and taken the cold eyes allowing their venom to knick her skin but never falling in defeat. Returning to Paradise had been her undoing. The compassion and fire that burned in the eyes of his mares that rallied with her because of mere blood ties. It was that realization that brought her to her knees and shed the skin of flayed flesh from her body. It was in that moment that she knew, until this child was born and her revenge exacted, she would return to Paradise.

She tried to go back to the Savanna, tried to continue on with Warduna as though nothing had changed but in fact it had all changed for her. The island of Luthien was tainted by the blood of her blood and it would never be the same. She does not call to Callahan, does not even bother to acknowledge him or his herd and instead gathers her daughter to her side and disappears into the surf deep in the night. He could have the cursed land back if he wanted it or another, she cared not. The weight was lifting from around her shoulders the closer she came to Atlantis.

Warduna clings to her side as they wade through the shallow surf that surrounds the jungle island. In the moonlight, Nyimara can just make out the nervous tilt of her small ears back and forth amid the curls of her silver white mane as the girl presses her pink muzzle into her mother’s shoulder. Since Nycol’s death, the filly had become almost clingy, as though she feared that her mother too might perish and leave her alone in this world. Affection draws the silver-haired witch to arch her neck and wrap the filly close. Paradise would do her good as well. ”Welcome to Paradise.” she breathes, almost as much to the filly as to her own soul. Here, she could rebuild herself in the safety that her sire’s guidance provided, as long as he understood she was no longer under his control.

Ears flip backwards as the massive stallion amasses from the shadows like a wraith in the night. Moonlight illuminated his emerald gaze as he strode effortlessly towards her. Respectfully, she dips her head to him, angling her muzzle to nudge her daughter forward for introductions. ”Warduna.” she breathes, the girl’s name a whispered prayer on her tongue. Water logged tail twitches against her hips as she glances back at the nervous girl one last time before stepping forward towards the shadows of the jungle’s embrace. ”We will stay here for a while. War is coming and Faolain’s blood belongs to me.” she hisses as she pushes past the growling stallion and disappears into the dark growth leaving a confused Warduna beside her grandsire. She had her own business to attend to and Warduna need not be a part of it this time.