Adrenaline is her wings and she flies high among the clouds.
A mid-morning sun dresses the meadow in gold. Clear skies and a crisp winter wind wake the world. The meadow is abuzz with activity, but Indira's heart races for other reasons. The battle is fresh in her memory. Vibrations from each kick that aimed true can still be felt ringing up her legs. She can feel Raider's hair grinding between her teeth. The smell of his blood still fills her nostrils.
Indira herself smells a hodge-podge of several different places, from the earthy undertones of the forest, to the sweet smell of paradise, to the briney aroma of the Lagoon. She is obviously well-traveled. The mare is not overly tall, but her lean, athletic build, and the vertical arrangement of white markings gives the illusion of such. Her tawny and white coat is smeared with mud, most of it dried. It flakes off as she moves, leaving clouds of dust floating in her wake. Indira's mane hangs in tangled threads around her neck. She could use a swim for no reason other than to clean up. She could use a careful grooming of a friend, but she has no friends here, and a swim will have to wait.
Indira hasn't eaten since mid-day yesterday. Her decision on how to handle Raider weighed heavily upon her, crushing her appetite for anything other than the sweet taste of annihilation. Now that the battle is won and Raider is no longer a threat, Indira hungers for something much less dramatic: food.
Her exit from the Lagoon was a hasty one. She crashed through the dense undergrowth of the bachelor territory, running as fast as she could to escape to neutral territory before someone could stop her. It was a bold move, marching into the Lagoon and killing one of their own, but what's more impressive is her escape. She shouldn't be here, grazing in the meadow as a free mare, but here she is, living proof of her own accomplishments.
The painted mare grabs mouthfuls of grass in hungry snatches, ripping it up from the roots in violent fashion. Her skin switches, tickled by the breeze, and her nostrils flare, still winded from her recent exertions. Her tail flicks anxiously from flank to flank. Dark eyes are wide with attention. They dart about the meadow with every bite, still wary of being followed. She worries a Lagoonie might show up any moment for retribution. But isn't it odd no one stopped her from killing one of their own right under their own noses? Either the Lagoon has lost its touch or Raider wasn't well-liked even by his own brothers. Indira did herself and the forest a favor, but maybe it's a favor much further-reaching than that.