NYMERIA
7; russian heavy draft x orlov trotter; dapple grey; 16hh; shiva
Kicking and screaming, she had done her best to show her displeasure. But eventually, knowing she had no other choice in a land where stallions always had the last say in the matter, Nymeria had regretfully followed. She hadn't exactly grown fond of Aaron in the few days she and her daughters had spent in the bay - she most certainly hadn't grown to trust him enough for him to earn her name - but saying that she had been sorry to leave would have been an understatement. Her daughters had never swam across the sea before, and she knew that her spotless daughter in particular might not be strong enough to make the journey, the way she seemed to fall asleep at the drop of a hat. It did not even matter that this red stallion was obviously more experienced at theft than Aaron was, thus technically owing him more of her respect: she could tell by the way he moved, and by the way that Aaron seemed powerless to stop him.
Simply put, she did not want her daughters to die. That, and Tinuvel was her home. She was a mare of the winter lands - always had been - and she wanted to remain that way.
Somehow, though, they'd arrived all intact, and mercifully without the sound of the stallion chattering in her ear the entire time. This one seemed quieter, stronger, and more natural; even if he had ripped her and her daughters from their home island, she had to give him that, at least. But she had not hesitated in baring her teeth at him the moment they stood dripping and shivering on dry land, warning him away so that she could have some private time with her girls, to recuperate and nurse their shock at being forced into the sea to move to a strange island.
And it was strange, this place. It was brighter, and warmer, and altogether more cramped. Trees of kinds she had never seen before stretched in every direction, with leaves of strange colors like burgundy, brown, and gold. Many of them seemed to be dropping their leaves as well, and when she stepped on them, they were frail and crisp beneath her hooves. Why had he brought her to a place that was dying? But what was even more confusing was that, despite the dying landscape, there were scents of all kinds to be had, and life around every corner. Rabbits and squirrels darted through the underbrush, chattering and gathering food in preparation for winter, and birds of types she could have never imagined flitted above her head, warbling strange liquid songs. There was so much happening.
And the number of horses!
Nymeria kept away from them all that first night, however, even refusing to eat, and barely sleepng, instead keeping watch over her exhausted daughters. Her body ached all over, and her brain was numb with bewilderment. She thought that night about the horses back in the arch - a place which seemed like an entirely different planet, now - in particular, Rusalka. The last time she had seen the alpha mare, she'd been running full pelt as their stallion chased her towards the coast in the middle of the night, her heavily-pregnant belly swinging with each rampant stride. Had she made it? Or had Rurisk killed her too? Nymeria liked Rusalka, and had no reason to wish death upon her; she hoped that the mare had survived, and perhaps even escaped, and that her foal had been born healthy.
It was a strange experience, waking up the next morning in the forest. Life stirred all around her, and birdsong echoed through the trees like an alien chorus. Even the light was different: thicker and brighter, like liquid honey as it filtered through the canopy and slanted past the trunks of the trees. The sound of the ocean was there too, in the background; Nymeria could even see it, through the gaps of her well-hidden little thicket. The girls were still asleep, the poor little things, and she had no desire to wake them before they were fully rested, so the mare carefully picked her way past them, trying to make as little racket as possible as she shouldered through the underbrush and out onto the open beach. The salty sea air was refreshing, a boon to her weathered mind, and she stood on the damp sand simply inhaling it deeply and gazing out across the dancing waves, wondering.
Splashing off to her left soon informed her she was no longer alone. She balked, but held her ground as a handsome gold and black mare emerged from the sea, her long wavy mane plastered against her side. Nymeria stared for several long moments, taking advantage of the fact that the stranger had not noticed her. They were about the same height and had similar builds; she thought she could see feathering like her own around the woman's pasterns, though was difficult to tell, as she was standing in the water. When she called out suddenly, the word (or words) on the mare's lips were strange and unfamiliar to Nymeria; having not yet heard the dun stallion's name, her only conclusion was that the mare was speaking a foreign tongue. Immediately this sparked her interest; if this woman was from far away, too, then they had more in common than met the eye.
Content that her daughters were safely tucked away for the time being, and that she would hear if they needed her, Nymeria began to approach the stranger, trying to ignore the strange feeling of her hooves sinking into the wet sand as she whickered a quiet greeting. Her head was held at half-mast and her ears were pricked forward to show that she was only curious, and not a threat. She hoped that the mare would accept her company; she was tired of complications.
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