Falls

VaLkA

mare / four / chestnut pangare / yakut / 13.0 hh

Valka was beyond frustrated - and beginning to feel like a prisoner in her own mind.

The small chestnut had been drawn to the Fjord as any living creature that felt isolated would seek comfort in the familiar. Liland was a poor substitute for her family, to be certain - his language was only dimly comprehensible, and it was clear that he understood hers about as well from the response he had given to her request. But even such a tenuous reminder of home was still something. Of course, what Valka truly needed was a fight - which was one underlying reason that she had chosen to defy her stallion. She knew no other way to express the emotions that threatened to overwhelm her.

Then - at last - it seemed as if the fates had chosen to grant her desire.

Valka turned towards the war-drum beat of hooves approaching and braced her stout body when she recognized the dark figure of the Inlet's prince. Unfortunately, Ironclad ended his charge before the anticipated collision of bodies, battering the Yakut with words instead of the blows she would have welcomed. It was impossible for her to discern the meaning of most of the syllables, but she did deduce that the dark boy was very unhappy - and that despite Liland's talk of allierte, there did not appear to be any fondness for the Fjord on Ironclad's end. In fact, he seemed even more furious with the dun stallion than he was with Valka - which was puzzling enough, considering that it was she who'd been the source of all the trouble.

Nevertheless, the fluffy mare stood - every muscle in her body taut and ready - awaiting the inevitable moment that the confrontation turned physical.

The moment never came.

Before Valka could figure out what had happened, the younger stallion had turned and stormed off with a final, disdainful snort. The Yakut moved as if to follow him, but something in the unspoken language of Ironclad's body stopped her. There had been a finality to the way that he left, and a fury that seemed far stronger than the situation warranted. A cold shudder raked fingers down Valka's spine - though it did nothing to cool the fire that still coursed through her veins, calling for blood and battle.

Perhaps she might have fought with Liland, but the Yakut did not feel like he would make a worthy opponent in his wretched state. His appearance seemed to reflect the turmoil that Valka felt within herself. She groomed him not out of affection - again, her people knew no romance save that of battle - but out of the compassion she felt for another who had tasted life's bitterest dregs. Outside of that empathy - and the curiosity she still felt about their shared ancestry - Valka felt no more of an attachment to Liland than she had Ironclad.

And as far as she was concerned - after whatever had just happened - oblivion could take them both. Turning her stocky body in a direction other than the one Ironclad had just taken, Valka headed for the shelter of trees without a backward glance. Let this Prince seek her out if he had want or need of her.