Black as night and white as snow. The stallion who approached was strong in body, leaning toward draft blood in his veins just as Mariael boasted. It had been her mother, half gypsy vanner, who offered Mariael a sturdier build to find comfort in the cold of Tinuvel. Mariael’s father was too lean with his dished face and slim build – if she were only of his DNA, Mariael might not look so at home among the frigid landscape. Unwilling to bow her head or demean herself in his presence, Mariael kept her head held proud and her face expressionless. She was sizing him up, her eyes narrowed slightly.
He may be a stallion, but Mariael was not spared physical scuffles and her coat already bore a patch or two of a faded scar to prove it. He said his name. Orkaan.
“My name is Mariael. I am Queen of the Bay, your neighboring territory.” She wondered how much she should say. In the past two years the light colored mare had come far, for previously she had rushed headstrong into her interaction with the last to come to Tinuvel and now she seemed to choose her words with care.
She also wondered how he would accept the news of a mare leading a territory without the presence of a stallion. Times had changed among the isles and since her father named her successor to the Bay, it appeared more and more mares were stepping forward to take charge of their homes.
Thus was the need for this meeting, Mariael supposed. She needed to know exactly the personality she was dealing with. But first and most importantly (to her), Mariael needed to know whether or not he belonged here, in Tinuvel. Blood was of utmost importance to her, even where others would argue she had no place to enforce such a thought.
“Have you lived on Tinuvel before?”
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