As the stallion moves about, they grey mare’s eyes track his ever supple step. Her ears do not unbury from her midnight mane, but she still hears his offered words. She does not know if he was trying to trick her, or if he truly wished to comfort her. The foreign aspect was hard to comprehend, and she dare not believe it. In truth, in the homeland of her blood, if she had found herself alone in a stallion’s company, it would only end in one way. But even with that wary knowledge, Sakhmet holds her ground.


“There is no affection or kindness for a cursed mare like me.” she answers in a remarkably truthful answer. Sakhmet did not spit venom with her words as she typically did, but rather spoke them as fact for how she saw them. “My beloved has already been cast under the spell of your brother, there is no sense in trying to apes me for her any longer.” The lies they spoke of her being revered, and even now as he called her a mare of caliber, Sakhmet could not believe.


With a toss of her finely dished head, she turns away from him and picks up a graceful flowing trot along the beach. Her silken mane shifts against her delicate neck while her tail flags out behind her. Despite the heat of the season that captured her body, Sakhmet had never felt the need to give into such desires. Her heart hardened by cruelty since the day she had been born. She would not be easily won, if ever, by the ways of typical men.