Common

The presence of Nyimara in the Inlet sent the stout-bodied stallion running for the hills. Well, running for the commons more or less. Nyimara’s presence in Tinuvel could not be good, regardless of the reason she was there. But the simple fact that she seemed to have taken up residence in Tinuvel gave the stallion a desire to venture back across old stomping grounds if only to see if Rougaru had returned as well. Despite his search, however, Atlantis proved to be a bust. There was not a single hide nor hair of his sire. He did manage to come across Annubis lurking among the shadows. The cocky stallion had PLENTY to say about Nyimara’s ventures but it was the reality that Rougaru was gone that hit him the hardest. It had been one thing to know his father was existing out there somewhere in the world but knowing now that he was no more had a way of hitting Loupgaru differently. What did that mean for him? Had the grudge between his father and Solomon really been so deep that the stallion would kill the old wolf? He did not know the stallion personally but Parvati spoke highly enough of him. Surely she would not feel such devotion… or would she? Did she know? Had she known and kept it from him?
The questions delay his return. That and the hope that Nyimara might have concluded her business in the Inlet. He would much rather disappear into the pine forests right now than be forced to decide where his loyalties should lie.

The painted beast knows that there is little chance he might come across any unclaimed mares in the commons, especially at this time of year. But that does not stop him from trying. His last attempt at claiming a mare in the commons had been a shitshow, to say the least. While he had been immensely pleased to see his wolf-girl again, he had not received the same friendly, seductive greeting she had offered him before. In fact, she had been rather pointed on her feelings towards him and he sported a few new bitemarks across his rump as evidence. She was out of his reach for now but that would not stop him, not for long anyway.

He moves easily enough beneath the canopy of the trees that act like a protective barrier to the meadows and fields of the main island. The full moon hangs high overhead, camouflaging his painted skin into the snow-dappled pathways. Golden eyes cast a watchful gaze over the moonlit meadow, his tattered ears perked forward amid the cream and alabaster mass of his heavy mane. Paper-thin nostrils flare, exhaling a slow breath into the cold night air in an attempt to mask his presence in case wolf-girl or her mountain mare lackeys were still hanging about. Here and there, plumes of smoke rise from dark shapes, marking the presence of lingering strangers. Most, milled amongst themselves, their conversations muffled garble by the thick layer of fresh snowfall. One, however, does manage to catch his watching gaze.

Dark, dark as the moonless night the stranger appears on the far end of the meadow, her black frame manifesting from the shadows with an ease that made him envious. He watches her move into the pale, blue-lit meadow, her hooves crunching easily through the soft crust of snow that coated the open space. She holds her head high, higher than any he has ever come across here which is perhaps what grabs his attention to begin with. Most mares and even some stallions moved cautiously from the forest's protective embrace, their ears swiveling back and forth as their nostrils quivered nervously sifting through the scents the winds brought them for signs of danger. These creatures reminded him the most of prey animals like the deer and elk that shared their grazing, fearing the unknown. But not this darkling. Her shoulders are squared as she casts a knowing gaze over the lands like some great queen surveying her conquest. Her skin does not flinch against the biting cold nor does her eyes rim white in fear of what predators might be hiding in the treeline.

Like a moth to the flame, he is drawn to her, relinquishing his own camouflage to emerge into the pale blue meadow. Golden eyes keep her within his sight as he makes his way across the snow. The rumble of his greeting is a deep baritone, reverberating from the deepest confines of his chest. Thickly muscled neck coils tightly, pressing his ashen labrums against the concave of his breast. His thickly feathered legs lift higher now, prancing forward at a quickened trot that ends in a huff of smoking breath and scattered snow. ”Mine?” he questions, snaking his head first to one side and then the other. His multicolored tail flicks back and forth against his muscular hips as his golden eyes roam her proud figure shamelessly. She is not nearly as fine-boned as the mare he had come across in the meadow before wolf-girl interrupted their game of cat and mouse, but perhaps that was for the best. The midnight woman was tall, taller than himself, and sported her own thick winter coat that would no doubt find the harsh winters of Tinuvel less of a problem than his sleek mouse. She would not be able to weave as easily through the thick conifer forests as himself but no doubt she would find living with him suitable. Now he just needed to get her there.

As if making up his mind, the beast bobs his head once, a wolfish grin sliding across his lips as he takes a stalking step forward. ”Mine. Tinuvel.” he murmurs, stretching his whiskered lips towards her, unable to resist the temptation of touching her dark skin, even if it meant he would seen feel the wrath of her blunt teeth and chipped hooves for the risk.