It had been some time now since the last herd gathered, since last she had been forced to endure the gray stallion's cold, hard eyes and since last she bent her own will enough to refuse to carry his child. As the cream stallion had stated, it would not have taken long before Warsaw caught a whiff of the scent of heat that clung to her skin. He would have taken pure pleasure and satisfaction in reminding her that he would ensure that she carried his seed. But she had been wiser. Well, perhaps not wiser, but just as determined that was for sure.

Raven tipped ears flex backward amid the tangle of windswept tresses as piercing silver blue eyes scan the rolling woodlands that lay before her on the island of Tinuvel. Somewhere out there, she knew that Warsaw contented himself in no doubt the company of his haughty queen. Whatever mutual interest that lay between them she was not sure, but felt sure that it was what earned her his affections. She had heard rumors that the smokey mare was somehow related to the red stallion of the prairies, the stallion that Warsaw despised. Oh how she imagined that the child within her could have belonged to the red stud. Perhaps then the smug smirk would disappear from the gray stallion's hansom, hard features.

Nova gives her head a shake, sending long raven locks dancing in a haphazard display along the elegant curve of her neck. A harsh snort escapes her lungs as she bends her head back to nip at a particularly annoying bug bite along her swelling barrel. She was not exactly thrilled about the fact that the sire of her foal was Warsaw's right hand man, but at least it was not the gray stallion. A soft grunt escapes her lungs as the unborn foal within her kicks out in retaliation to her nips. Despite herself she cannot help the small smile that tugs at the corners of her lips. She had told herself she would not feel for this foal, that she would not care for it as she had cared for her beloved Leviathan, but she was finding that determined promise one hard to stick by. Long dark lashes blink slowly as for a single moment longer she lets her gaze linger upon her swollen barrel before turning once more to the world around her. The skies above were thick and gray, pregnant with winter snows of their own. Soon, soon the world would be blanketed in thick drifts of the frozen rain and grazing would be much harder to come by. Even now her stomach rumbled at the thought. She remembered those days, and she was not looking forward to them. The times of plenty were slowly coming to an end and it would not be long before the best grazing was damp tasteless dead grasses only uncovered by digging beneath the snow drifts. For now, she contented herself to grazing on the yellow tufts, using the velvet end of her lips to push aside the driest pieces to grasp at the tiny greenery that still grew closest to the earth.