If you asked Nyimara what her plans were, they would never have involved finding herself prisoner here to the lagoon and its bachelor stallion herd. The infiltration of the lagoon had gone rather smoothly, the extraction of the foals, well that could have used a bit more planning and perfecting. However they had been on a short schedule and over all the silver haired mare did not think they had done so poorly for a handful of inexperienced herd horses. She herself had such a short history of battle and yet gazing upon Cullen's limping form now as he moves towards her with a smug grin, she cannot help but to think back on the wounds that she herself had managed to land upon the seasoned warrior.

Small cupped ears disappear beneath silver white threads of her mane as ashen labrums peel back to reveal pearly white teeth. Dark auburn ooids narrow with disgust as the palomino stallion stares down upon her. If there was one thing about the chocolate colored mare, she did not approve of being looked down upon. She had grown quite used to being adored in more eyes than one.

His words are met with a venomous hiss, slender neck dropping low as lithe limbs propel her child swollen form towards him in fearless abandon. As much as she adored her Bjorn, it was the ill chosen season that had her captive here as much as it was the Lagoon boss. Had she not given into the throws of the season, perhaps she would have been quicker than Cullen, perhaps she might even have been able to best him. Now that would have been a trophy for her wall.

No, she had failed in that department, but at least she could look down her own judgemental gaze upon him. A single brow raises as she nears him a sadistic smile tugging her own velvet labrums upwards. "About as much as you look the part of a healthy respectable stallion Cullen." she taunts, unusually long alabaster tail snapping audibly against her flanks. Bide her time, yes bide her time over and over the words play through her mind, the beastial groan reminding her that it was the unborn foal's safety that she must guard. "I would hate to think that your bones will soon replace those of your fallen fellow on the shore. What was his name again? Metastophalies?" she taunts amusement dancing in those dark eyes as she circles around him with slow calculated steps. The weight of her unborn child hampered her graceful poise but not enough to turn her into some inexperienced dolt. Nostrils flare as she halts before him, curled serpentine lifting her proud head high in defiance.