<font color=#e4e0d7><i>�Beware she who suckles from the Walking Mare.�</i></font>

Your King Asmodeus
Your Queen ~~Nyimara~~
The Second None
The Herd Name, Name, Name		The Sub-Herd Name, Name, Name
Allies Name (Land)		Enemies Solomon (Cove)
The Rules There will be no fraternizing with enemies. If you put yourself knowingly in danger, don't expect a rescue. We are only as strong as our weakest link. See to it that you are getting stronger in some skill that is useful, whether it is battling, recruiting, charming, etc. The King and Queen have final say in all matters.

�Beware she who suckles from the Walking Mare.�
Posted on September 29, 2015 at 04:28:48 PM by el halin

El Halin

The mare flinches, then flips her ears back and adjusts her stance as if she expects El Halin or Orhan to herd her away. The bloodmarked mare is interested in how briefly the mutt�s anger is displayed. Iftikhar�s ears would be pinned for the entirety of this conversation, if� but Iftikhar had never dropped a White Foal, and if she had, she�d have had the sense to abandon such a useless thing. As Ava holds her gaze, El Halin thinks, This halfbreed lacks common sense. She is about to try to argue her case �for the benefit of these lowly things, of course� when she becomes aware that the breeder is and has been staring at her during all this.

El Halin turns her graceful head to meet his eyes. Her brow furrows minutely to see the hard displeasure in his gaze, unable to fathom what has changed his expression, when he steps forward and whips the air with his words. The fleabitten mare draws her head back, nostrils flared, and tips her ears back at the heat in his voice. How dare such a lowly horse �a breeder!� address her in such a way.

She holds her anger down and forces her ears up. She holds Orhan�s eyes for a long moment, her stare as hard as his own, and then drops her eyes as if ashamed. But there is no apology in her voice when she speaks, and the lines of her body ripple with tension. �Sensitivity,� she repeats. �Such a word does not belong in a land like this. Your Desert is no more merciful than mine; I sought only to preserve the energy of the herd.� She flips her gray tail and turns away from the two, her motions stiff. She angles her head back, opens her mouth, but decides against whatever last words she has to say and faces forward as she heads back to the oasis. Let them waste their reserves in the heat of the sun, let them stand beside the little corpse until the scavengers come to feast as they wallow in their weakness, their sensitivity.

mare // arabian // fleabitten gray // fourteen.three hh // eight // uforia

�Beware she who suckles from the Walking Mare�

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