She had no business here, mother would be furious. From her youngest days, Nyimara drilled into her head the danger that the commons brought to mares unaccompanied. Vaguely she remembered Cullen and the fierce unease with which his icy blue eyes seemed to stare straight into her. Vaguely she remembered the venom with which the blue smoke stallion met her mother's eyes or the tall painted stallion of Tinuvel that had sent them to their prison in the Lagoon. Stallions could not be trusted and deserved no loyalty, at least that is the whisper of her mother's voice on the wind.
Dark ears rotate backwards as the young girl lifts her pale face, a defiant gleam in her icy blue eyes. She was not afraid of anyone and she would show her. Nyimara might avoid the commons like a plague upon the lands but Warduna would not fall victim to her mother's caution. Fate had already proved over and over again that the warrior woman was not always right.
Pale silver white tail lifts, flicking back and forth against her sleek flanks with the same slow steady movement of a feline. Slender legs lift high as dark hooves prance beneath her. Supple muscles bunch and coil beneath the sleek brown and white color of her skin. Everything about her screamed confidence. She did not survive this long with Nyimara without it.
Paper thin nostrils flare as the young mare makes her way around the open fields, wading through the knee high yellow tipped grasses with an effortless grace that belonged only to few of the more feminine gender. Dark neck arches, sending alabaster tassels cascading in heavy dancing ringlets down the curve of her throat. One. Two. Three laps around the open meadow, before she dares to slow her pace to a halt. A fine layer of sweat caused her dark skin to gleam in the bright sunlight as she exhaled another loud breath, her lithe sides heaving. Long lashes blink against the bright daylight as silver blue eyes gaze over the mingling horses to see if her display had at least managed to draw some attention..