Desert

The silver haired woman does not startle or tense when the painted girl appears at her side. Ash dusted nostrils flare as the dark woman turned her finely dished face to fix the chocolate mare in her vision field. Sister. The word coils tightly around her soul and churns within her belly like rotten fruit. Sister is what the delicate fairy girl called her and yet even she cannot deny the existence of such ties. The old wolf spread his genes to any willing or unwilling host, the islands were teaming with life created by him. She had seen it more clearly than most in the island of Atlantis where he kept his children closest. A small part of her resented him, resented the voice that commanded her send the girl home with her own marks of the wolf along her rump as repercussion. She resented Rougaru. She resented the name that he had made for himself and the hushed whispers of reverence and fear that alight the eyes of any who brought his name into conversation. She resented the fact that this half-blooded sister of hers was kept close to Paradise, resented the protection he provided her while it was the fates and their cruel judgement that she had been forced to face. Most of all, Nyimara resented the youth that was evident in the elegant arch of the young mare’s curved neck and the brightness in her dark eyes. Once more it stood as a stark reminder of her own mortality and that despite her best efforts, so far, she had nothing to show for it save for a handful of mares in the world that feared the very mention of her name.

However none of these thoughts pass beyond the recesses of her mind. The finely dished features of her face remain void of emotion. Dark eyes blink in acknowledgement of the sweet sounding words spoken by the girl. A shame that she did not even know her name yet but it was clear from her sodden frame to the brightness of her eyes that she had every intention to remain here. In that at least, she earns Nyimara’s patience, however lacking it might be. The mask of perfection slides easily into place as a sickeningly sweet smile curves the corners of her lips upwards. ”Yes….” she begins, her sultry words dragging out as her sweeping gaze turns towards the deserted desert landscape. One thing that could be said of the desert, it was at least sparse in its inhabitants. Turning back now she gazes at the young mare. ”I can see how one might find that quality less than appealing.” she adds, flicking her long silver white tail in invitation as she stalks forward away from the sluggish brown waters of the river. Together, she moved with the mare, keeping her pace even albeit purposeful. Together they crested the rise of a nearby hillock to allow her searching eyes to scan the kingdom that now lay empty and barren before her. But not for long.

It was a promise more to herself than to anyone else but a promise she meant all the same. Not for long. Tilting her crown to fix a single dark eye on the girl at her side, Nyimara speaks up, ”I felt it.” she purrs, a single fluted lobe tilting backwards as she paws at the ground beneath her, ”Stagnant and suffocated by the closeness and the lack of excitement. It is enough to infuriate even the most tame of beasts..” she continues, the smile turning into something more akin to the Cheshire Cat’s grin. Her hips pivot now so that she is able to face the girl, lifting her finely dished muzzle high in the command and authority that her new position as Queen of the Desert gave to her. ”Prove to me that you are worthy of it,” she says, drawing her words out slowly and purposefully between them ”What are you willing to offer the Desert?” she asks, her small mahogany ears perking forward now amid the wind swept tangle of her silver white mane. Patiently waiting.