Desert

The moment he landed on her shores, Nyimara is aware.

Now it was not like this stallion did his best to appear invisible or show some sort of respect. No. His curses and displeasure is as clearly written as the open wounds and marred flesh on his painted hide.

Dark ears bury beneath the thick mantle of silver white mane as the exotic desert woman fixes the intruder with her hard gaze. Paper thin nostrils flare as she inhales a deep breath from the hot midday zephyrs, catching the faintest hints of testosterone that wafted from the water logged male.

Who is that? Do you know him? the questions barrel from Cato’s lips and quick as the desert viper Nyimara reaches to pinch the flesh of his shoulder between her teeth. Already he was taller than her but that did not mean she did not still know how to bring the yearling into tow when the need arose. ”Hush!” the word is a deadly whisper from her lips as she glares up into the green blue eyes of her youngest child. Youngest still, until the one in her womb decided to make its appearance into this world. Perhaps that too was why the boy’s contant questions irked her nerves much more easily these days. Maybe that too was why she found herself so furious at the stranger’s lack of decorum. Usually, she found pleasure in the arms of stallions, depending on the stallion anyway. However today, fury burned in her dark eyes as she switched her unusually long tail irritable at Cato. ”Stay here.” she growls, threat in her tones as slender legs propel her forward with a scream of challenge. She had no intentions of playing nice; not today.

Proud neck arches, ashen muzzle pressing against her petite breast as the woman navigates her baby swollen frame down the hillside and towards the injured male. Dark flutes lift amid the pale tresses of her mane as the sound of his voice echoed over the silence. Confusion lit her dark eyes and caused her brows to raise in suspicion. He was the only other creature around and yet the fierceness of his voice and the passion with which he spoke whispered of ghosts or of demons that remained unseen to her eyes. Insane? Possibly. Many a weak creature found themselves lost at the end of their days when faced with such harsh realities as what Salem offered. However, unlike the rabid coyotes of foxes that occasionally wandered into her realm, this creature did not froth at the mouth or stink of death. Well, not completely.

The closer she came, the more she realized that the stallion was much older than he had appeared at a distance. Likely older than her own sire from the amount of gray hairs that tucked into the pale colors of his body. A proud smirk slides across her own ashen lips as Nyimara lifts her head and proceeds towards him at a quick pace, closing the distance between them in just enough time to catch the final words he spoke. ’Stuck here for the night.’

A haughty scoff echoed from deep within her lungs as Nyimara lifted her proud head. ”Not unless I say so.” she barks, her tail snapping audibly against her swollen sides. A single fluted ear tilts sideways as she glances around him, first one side and then the other, ”And I’m not so sure I shouldn’t send such a senile old man back to the watery grave where he belongs. Unless you have something to offer beside a carcass for the vultures to pick clean.” she continues, tilting her head slightly to fix him with a furrowed gaze, ”Salem has no use for the weak.”