Oswin had taken to her new role with vigor, particularly after she’d come across the large gray brute who’d been going after Tyr. Enemies lurked at their doorsteps, she soon learned, and the way she had once been protective of the Peak and of the residents of the islands, Oswin became protective of those in the Ridge.

Often she was accompanied on her patrols of the Ridge border by one of her sons, Oswald or Calder, but today she traveled alone. Not that she minded, really, Oswin had always been independent, ever since she was a babe bouncing along the tall-grass hills of the Prairie she was born in. Some twenty years later a life of countless physical altercations and emotional woes had only kept her very firmly in that mindset. She may be rather small, particularly compared to the handsome giant she loved, and she may even be rather dainty in her carriage, given the strong Arabian influence to her breeding, but there was no doubt that Oswin was tough.

All along the gold and white of her coat were patches of skin where hair had been ripped or skinned either by teeth or hoof; by the time Oswin was five she’d already been littered in marks, but now? Now they covered her body, each one a sign for those close enough to see them that she wasn’t one to shy from physical altercation. If anyone ever tried to mistake it as thinking she was a mare who was often beat up, they’d soon learn the truth once they tried pushing her.

Take, for instance, the red stallion she had begun trailing.

Oswin had caught wind of the stranger as she walked through the shaded jungle inland of her home. Hadn’t she seen him here before? It had been some time, but Oswin had a sneaking suspicion this was not the first time this stallion had walked hers and Tyr’s territory. Too, the lurking scent of the Lagoon raised both curiosity and suspicion, and so she found herself following him to see what he was up to.

After some time it was obvious he was angry, which made Oswin feel somewhat on-edge, catching the tension growing in the air with every step the red stallion took. He stopped and she stopped, but her heart was pounding in her chest and her veins were hot with adrenaline, before he even turned about, Oswin knew. Her own white ears pulled back tight against her neck and she charged forward at him. She would not be cowed, would not fear a fight; those of the Ridge would know their Queen would always fight for their safety.

Oswin reared up as they came close, hoping in his anger he’d do the same, and they could clash their bodies into one another with a hard collision, become swinging hooves and snapping jaws, and she hoped she might beat him down until he told her why the hell he was stomping angrily through her home.

oswin
this is as brave as I know how to be.
I know it’s gonna hurt you, but please… be a little proud of me.