She had not been within the Dunes long, and though she had little taste for the barren landscape pride had already begun to blossom in her chest as she gazed across the sea of sand. It would not have been her first choice for a home, but it was the one she had been given for now and she would make all she could out of it. She had seen Bloodmane little, no doubt he out on other conquests yet she did not have much need of him. Her heat had come and gone and no doubt the foray that had come with it between the red paint and herself would make its success or lack thereof known soon enough. He had come to her, drawn by the distinctive scent, but she had not let him take her easily. Their fight had raged beneath the dancing stars of the desert, he trying to will her beneath him again and again while she would not yield. His perseverance and won the day again and it had raised him a notch in her eyes once more.

Besides Warsong she had met none of the other Dunes residents in person, not even the Olaf to whom the tawny warrior had called her own stallion. She had seen the meandering shapes of other mares on the horizon, most of them placid and content to meander where directed. Often Bloodmanes stood apart from the rest of Olaf’s family, separation something that would not stand in the coming months. Something needed to draw the two Desert herds together or they would not survive the winter. She had come across deserts before, and while the seasons tended to leave the warm, dry days untouched at nights the temperatures could plummet in colder seasons. It had already begun, forcing even herself closer to the others during the frigid nights. She would soon take it upon herself to drive the others in closer, tighter for the warmth they could provide one another to survive. She didn’t have to know or like them to keep them in place, her position within the herd would not be questioned.

As if reading her mind a somewhat familiar cry breaks across the sands, finding the mousey hued paint atop the crest of a dune overlooking the oasis. She narrows her eyes, searching amongst the sparse palms to confirm exactly who had summoned them all. Her gaze finds the tawny spotted mare there in the shade as she snorts roughly, no doubt she expected quick responses. Due to this Nakita stalls, watching a few other meander over first before descending herself and arriving behind the blood-red stallion. Her large form pulls up alongside his, not necessarily close but comfortable after watching his exchange with Warsong. Inwardly she smirks at the pain no doubt blossoming along his nose, remembering when she had given him much the same not long ago. Her large forehoof paws the loose sand, head bobbing as she chewed the air in an amicable greeting to the other women, though her white ears still tilted backward to her tangled tresses. For good measure her heavy head snakes out surprisingly fast, blunt teeth aiming to land a solid nip to the side of Bloodmane’s cheek or crest lest he forget Naktia’s own disposition to all of this. Shifting her weight to be more comfortable standing her azure gaze wanders back to Warsong, question and expectation lingering there.