For so long, Tuari had struggled to keep her distance, to remain independent and not risk the dangers of growing too close... too trusting of those around her. Yet time and again, she found that task more challenging than perhaps anything else that she had ever faced in the last few changes of the seasons. Though she had long lost track of where mother now lived, she still felt that rising urge that burned through body as though her veins were on fire. She needed to belong. Somehow she had allowed it to happen with Torsten in the beginning, despite her insistence of wishing to be anywhere but in a herd. The young mare feared and rebelled against the guilt the hansom young colt had inadvertently made her feel - through the pain so clearly caused by her rejection though he'd been willing to allow her the space she wished. She feared it so much - caving to the friendly smiles and kind eyes - she was afraid. Mother warned her. Warned her about such feelings, about the rise of emotions that came with age. Mother warned her to keep clear of Warsaw and of his offspring, reminded her of the eve in which he had taken her with force to ensure that it was his seed that grew her belly. She knew that the stallion was not her sire, though Nova had never gotten a chance to tell her the truth still she felt the hard gaze in which the gray stallion met her form as thus she could not help but to keep to the outskirts with her head bowed in meek submission. This was home.

She had watched with wide eyes as the white faced mare came and turned their small world upside down. Watched as mother had calmed approached her with smug satisfaction. She watched with equal fascination as Vita Nova rose to the challenge and sent the blue mare to the surf. Vaguely she remembers the sorrowful screams from her voice as Nova had been bundled off to the lagoon. She feared for mother but Nova had told her... it was time. She must rise to her own path. But which path?

Blinking past the soft flurry of snowflakes, Tuari let her gaze linger over the small herd. They had grown in number as of late. Torsten had returned but without his mother. Tuari wanted to approach him, to ask him what made him come back to the Inlet but she did not dare. Not yet. Gazing at him now she feels the hunger burn her loins and she gives her head a shake pressing the thoughts far from her mind. No. She would not.

She offers a heavy sigh, dropping her finely shaped muzzle to the damp earth. Listlessly she rips up a mouthful of foliage and chews without much interest. Despite this being home, it had grown into quite a lonely place since mother left. Of course Nova had only ever been popular with Warsaw and that was when he needed an outlet for his anger. It was Nova that had made them outcasts but even in this Tuari did not dare blame her dam. Instead she merely continued on in her stead. Forever the outcast and bastard offspring.