A mare approached first, standing taller than the three who waited at the borders (though Mariael was tallest, only shorter than the stranger by a little less than a foot thanks to her grandfather’s draft blood). As they had not deemed the mare a threat, none of the trio glanced over her body in ways to assess it as to how she might pair as an opponent. Equally, neither of the three were fighters foremost (though, again, if any, Mariael’s temper had the likelihood to make her so) and therefore their minds did not automatically draw any form of battle conclusions. Instead, the three watched the silver mare approach, Mariael and Nephilim with their heads raised, ears forward, and blind Maziel with her ears pricked and her nostrils quivering as she scented the air.
Initially, Nephilim nearly moved forward to speak; he was used to addressing strangers in the matters of leadership and diplomacy. Before he could talk, Mariael lifted her chin just slightly higher and her voice cut crisp, businesslike, though not unkind through the cool Tinuvel air.
“I am Mariael, leader of your neighboring territory, the Bay. This is my father, Nephilim, who led the Bay before me and my sister, Maziel.”
Maziel offered a small smile when she was introduced while Nephilim inclined his dished head in a slight nod. His gold eyes remained ever watchful but he remained quiet, allowing his daughter to navigate important negotiations. He would have immediately assumed this mare was led by a stallion, given the traditional herd values adopted by most of the islands… but, then again, he’d just bequeathed the entirety of his territory onto his daughter rather than keeping it himself or waiting for a son. Perhaps because Mariael was a female or perhaps because there was not a strong scent of a stallion, she did not make the same assumption.
“Are you the new leader of the Inlet? We were close neighbors with the last, Pagan, but he seems to have not been here for some time.”
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