Finely sculpted features remain fixed beneath the welcoming mask in place, hiding away any guilt or internal struggles that dig sharp claws into her heart. Dark lashes blink in acknowledgment as the desert princess meets her gaze, offering what was no doubt meant for reassurance on her own part. Thin lips press together a bit more firmly now as she nods her head, glad that the Peak General had thought so far ahead as to describe her own appearance to potential recruits. Something that she herself would have to try to do better.

However the laugh that followed her question was not one she expected. Surprise causes the mask to fall from its place and she takes a blinking step backward in confusion. Twin harks tilt backward as her pale silver eyes steel with determination. ’My elder sister was taken from my father by force…’ she begins, awakening the slumbering feline within her own heart. Teeth clench together in frustration. Not directed towards the unnamed stallion in this girl’s story, but at all the stallions she has ever come across. From the black beast that brought about the gray mare’s death in the channel that day to the roguish men lounging about the lagoons and even this daughter’s own father. All of them sought only to claim and proclaim. To take and force the world into acceptance for that is the way of life as they see it.

Heat rises beneath the wind-cooled hairs of her skin as Khar exhales a controlled breath, silencing the flexing claws and agitation she felt within. She tries her best to readjust the friendly mask but instead settles for something more akin to an absence of emotion. She cannot force herself to see how abiding by a father’s wish was beneficial for a girl who should be free to explore the world and cut her own path in life. She cannot see how being shipped off to a foreign land with unfamiliar faces might teach a mare to one day lead her own herd. She cannot hope to ever understand the concept of “husbands” or submission to testosterone because that is merely who she is.

However she can understand the love a child feels for a parent. The same love she feels for Diccon and her reluctance to likewise send him away from the security of the Peaks in search of guidance from the lagoon or older stallions willing to teach. She can understand the need for a parent’s approval, even if hers had never come from a sire.

Nashira’s gaze turns to the vast hillocks and rising peaks that surround them. Khar’pern likewise turns her icy voids onto the vast hills and rising rockfaces as the anger subsides and the tension ebbs from her skin. From her peripheral, she notices the russet shoulder of her companion flinches, and a single raven-tipped lobe tilts towards her. ”They will be gone soon when the cooler weather begins to set in on the slopes again.” She pauses, flicking her dark tail invitingly. ”Come, the higher elevations keep them at bay better.” she begins, taking a few steps forward before pausing to wait for Nashira to join her.

For a few moments, they travel in silence, no doubt the desert-born mare as equally lost in her own thoughts as Khar found herself to be in. As the climb begins to steepen, finally Khar breaks the rising wall of silence. ”I cannot promise to understand you. I cannot promise to agree with the decision you have made but it seems that you have made it and thus I will not hold it in offense.” She begins again, lifting her finely dished head to feel the billowing zephyrs as they twist and coil around them. ”But I can promise that we will show you our ways and teach you how best to defend yourself and listen to your people. I was raised much differently from you. Stallions were never kept around and thus I have never known a sire but I do have had a mother and many aunts and nieces. In the jungles, we learned to heal and to build ourselves together for the good of the whole instead of one. It is something I hope to return to these mountains and rebuild among the islands themselves. A stallion should not be allowed to control the fate of all simply for the appendages hanging between his legs. It is a mother’s womb that nurtures us, a mother’s love that protects us and guides us. Who teaches us what can kill a life and what can save it.” she finishes, dipping her muzzle to brush against a small yarrow plant growing beside the path. A smile, ernest and sure brightens her steely features as she glances once more at Nashira. ”I can listen. Is that something you will promise too?” .