Finley narrowed his blue eyes as she turned to him, telling him to leave if that was what he wanted. As if she could keep him? He wasn’t a fresh young stud to bully, threaten, or capture. She was right that he had come here out of spite, and in truth, he would probably leave in the same way. Whatever inconvenienced her the most. But while the blood of her foal still stained her legs, Finley kept his barbed retorts to himself.
“Make alliances before you make enemies.” Finley stated. “And don’t take on the longest standing names of the islands first.” Solomon had worn the Tinuvel crown for as long as Finley could remember, and the culprit as to why he had grown up in that frigid landscape instead of the Shore where he had been born. As much as Finley wanted to set Siren against him, he knew the old king would make a better ally than an enemy. Just as Tyr had been the Lagoon General, and the Boss for many years before his apparent retirement. Rougaru of Salem, and Zevulun of Luthien had been around just as long. Although staying on the Ruins and then here for so long, Finley did not know of the change in power and death.
“And clearly don’t get pregnant again.” He added, as if that was not clear enough by what had happened, if she continued to choose the fighting path. “Being fat only slows you down.”
stallion | mutt | 15.2hhs | Smokey Black | Angel x Xiomara
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