'I was born in the Desert when it was ruled by Cain,' he told her, and Marceline's expression shifted towards confusion. "Cain? I can't say I know him. Right now the Desert is ruled by a mare named Nyimara, and the Badlands have a king named Rafe. The Dunes are... neutral territory at the moment, you could say." It was a roundabout way of saying that there was no one sitting on the Dunes throne, or at least no one that she knew of. Fiero and his golden mare were long gone, and she'd not seen anyone within its borders in weeks.
Her newest claim was gracious enough to give her his name — for the second time, Marceline realized belatedly. "Taurus, right." She said, and if she'd a more well-developed sense of shame she might have blushed and apologized for her fumble with his name. But as it was she was too wrapped up in her mission, single-mindedly pursuing her goal of getting him to the Hills. She had little patience for this whole claiming business, but it was a necessary evil and she was well aware what a lack of numbers would do for her status on Salem.
'Lead the way, then, I guess?' Taurus asked, and she couldn't tell if he seemed troubled, annoyed, or just resigned to the fact he'd been picked out among the bunch so quickly. Whatever it was, she wasn't going to meddle. She'd inserted herself into his life forcibly enough as it was. "With pleasure. When we've finished our swim I can finally see what you look like under all that dirt." She grinned, turning and motioning with her head for the golden stallion to follow, eager to show him to her — their — new home.
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