Winter was near. Any horse native to Tinuvel, or who had at least lived there for over a year needed to be told such a thing. They could sense it in the heavy chills and the already frequent snowfalls sticking to the ground. They could feel it deep in their bones. The blizzards would come. The ocean waves would swell and crash with the power of the island’s storms. The world would be a dangerous one but like every winter, the Bay herd would be safe.
There was one thing Mariael needed to do before winter fell and she turned her herd inland, driving them up the narrow paths into the mountains, where so few knew the existence she kept her herd safely in. Mariael needed to speak with Warsaw and see where they stood. She needed to be certain he had a plan in place to keep his herd alive and well through the hard months ahead. He’d lived here before, he knew the intensity of Tinuvel’s wrath, and so she trusted he was wise enough to have the answers she’d ask.
Zevulun glanced at Mariael as she moved toward the Inlet and fell without a word in step beside her. 98She glanced at him, ready to tell him to stay with the herd, but decided against it. Instead she said not a thing and walked on proudly… only to pause when she heard the beckoning call. Mariael’s blue eyes met Zevulun’s and then shifted forward, toward the direction they’d been walking.
Warsaw.
Tension coiled in her muscles, but it did so with excitement. Mariael welcomed a challenge, and if this was to be one she’d most definitely enjoy it.
Moving forward again, Mariael strode into the area Warsaw had stopped to wait in, her head high as ever and pink eyelids narrowed in concentration as she studied him. While he held himself with the same pride she possessed, she couldn’t sense aggression or challenge coming from him. She paused, still, and considered him before she spoke. Zevulun paused beside her, but just a small length behind… he stood at her side, watching this stallion he’d already heard so much about…
Namely that he’d tried to take Freya from the Forest. Zevulun shifted his weight and blew a warm breath of air through his lips.
“Warsaw,” Mariael greeted. “I was just thinking about you.” Mariael had never been great as pleasantries… small talk just wasn’t her thing. “Have you given thought to my intention of ruling Tinuvel?”
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