Falls

Fury. There was a fire that burned like a slow flame within her soul as slowly day by day the absence of Bjorn began to eat away at the Ridge herd. Like a wolf gnawing upon a bone it ached within her heart and within her soul. It was not just Bjorn who disappeared. Her beloved Sigrudr, ever his sire’s shadow, was gone. His loss to the Lagoon had been a wound deep to her heart, a wound that had been given such a sort time to heal. Gone. Lost to only the gods above. Her faith in Atlantis began to waver as another appeared proclaiming their rights to the Ridge to all who still remained. Though Nyimara had seen Sio and Allil with their two foals, she had not bothered to join them. Perhaps it was how well the two seemed to manage the foals together, the warmth in their eyes or even the companionable silence with which they grazed together. Perhaps it was the ease with which they went about their days surrounded by strangers as though Bjorn had never existed. Of course she knew she had not right to blame them, knew that they were mere whatever the reason, Nyimara could not bring herself to interrupt that with her own soured heart. Instead she kept Raksha close, drifted here and there through the herd lands forever searching with no true hope. Bjorn was gone, and she felt little faith that he would return. Why would he? The black mare’s scent was strong in the Ridge, quick to replace the stale odors of Bjorn’s scrapes and runts. Only Raksha remained, the ever constant reminder of the devotion to the nordic king.... the red girl with her icy blue eyes.

Nyimara knew she should stay close, should the urge to return to them proved great enough. She knew that always she would find shelter in her father's herd and yet she cannot. She left Atlantis behind her like a nostalgic memory. The taste of freedom Bjorn had bestowed upon her was enough to prevent the silver haired woman from returning to her own sire’s herd. It was not that Rougaru was overly hard with her, nor did she feel that he would look down upon her or the growing filly at her side. No, Nyimara feared that instead father might offer her to another, and she was not yet willing to relinquish Bjorn in her heart. Even in his absence the devotion and fury burned like a raging fire unquenched by the cold fears of sorrow.

The rising tides bring with it the chocolate mare, her water drenched tendrils plastered against the elegant curve of her arching neck. Slender legs draw her from the shoals, her dark piercing gaze and soft toned nickers the needed encouragement to ensure her that Raksha too was scrambling onto the shores of yellow sands. The memory of her sire was distant in her mind and yet she found herself feeding off the energy that Nyimara fed her. Excitement coursed through her veins for it was very few her age that were given the opportunity to venture to the main island. She wanted to explore and greet the strange and unfamiliar scents with all the fervor of youth but Nyimara stops her with a hard stare and flash of teeth. Now was not the time.

Obediantly Raksha tucks herself away in the thick foilage, Only when Nyi was sure there was no risk of dangerous rogues does she give the small russet filly the freedom to go about her way in frolic and play. Nyimara had relinquished the reins on Sigurdr and let him wander from her side. Though his bond with Bjorn assured her that where ever it was in the worlds that her smokey lover had gone, their son was at her heels, it did little to comfort her now. She was determined the same would not become of her Raksha.

The existence was peaceful in the days since she found herself on the common island. Raksha was quick to free herself of Nyimara's constant supervision and found herself enjoying the shallows near the roaring falls. Though she had seen the turbulent ocean waves and spent many a day racing along the rocky shores that broke along the ridge, never had she seen such sweet waters falling in such constant flow. Nyimara likewise was happy enough to let the girl enjoy her new surroundings. Her own dark thoughts weighed heavily upon her mind and her soul. With each passing day that Bjorn stayed gone, the higher the likelihood that another might attempt to take from her what the changing seasons had to offer. Even she was not so naive anymore that the stirrings in her loins go unnoticed. Already she feels the heat of autumn warming her pelt like a bright flower in offer to the striped bees and flitting hummingbirds, beckoning for pollination. The cool shallows and lush green grazing was a mild enough distraction and the occasional frolic with Raksha was enough to deter her when even fresh grazing turned sour on her tongue. Still it was not enough. It strengthened the burning flame and at times left her breathless with rage. One more day. Over and over the words played upon her tongue and in her mind. She would give him one more day.... and another still... she would ripe his hide apart and tear the beating heart from his breast as he had robbed her of he own. Vengeance. She wanted her vengeance,

A hard snort rushes past her lungs as viciously she rips free a mouthful of emerald earth still untouched by the changing seasons. Though the falls were not the Ridge, the roar of the falls soothed her and she was content in allowing herself a peaceful moment, the voices in her mind lulled by that sweet waters that rushed over the porous rocks.