Nyimara was not quite sure how she felt about this island of Tinuvel. Her experience here on the islands had only been focused around the warmer more humid climates. It had not been long after her arrival here that Bjorn had happened upon her and well, the rest was history as far as she was concerned. It had taken very little convincing, to ensure that father would allow her to continue her companionship with Bjorn. Because the smoke colored stallion had chosen to settle too on Atlantis, literally next door to her own sire, the rainforests and tropical temperatures had become a part of who she was. It was these environments in which she blossomed into the spirited and fierce queen.

But it was the warm weather that she was now to leave behind.

Perhaps it was best to leave such in the past. It was wisest to look upon the new lands with the same hopeful anticipation as she had once viewed the Ridge.

Dark eyes blink against the mist that swirled like ghostly wraiths over the lands. Hot vapor hangs like rivulets of smoke above her finely dished façade, giving the appearance of a dragon breathing in the cold air. Small ears swivel amid the wisping curls of her silver-white mane. This was her new home. Her kingdom. Bjorn, her bear king, had made this possible. It was the lands of his forefathers and the lands that he claimed his own. In these lands, she can see him. She sees him now in the ice that frosts the hardy yellow grass. She sees him in the cold winds that blow through the bristled needles of the fir and spruce. She sees him even in the soft falling snow as it blankets her mahogany skin in a fine dusting of white. The jungles of Atlantis might have been their home for a time, but this land, this land was his homeland.

Anticipation beat strong in her breast as she takes a step forward into the unknown. Small dark hooves crush beneath the mixture of pebbled rocks and snow. A single dial swivels as nostrils flare, inhaling the biting cold air and savoring the exotic bouquet of conifer trees and the various animals that made this land home. It was strange here, a land of strange sounds. She had not spent time in the frigid winterland that father had once called home. WInterfell was before her time and even before the time of her dam. Though she was no stranger to the occasional snows, the island of Tinuvel is a far cry from a little winter. At least Bjorn was with her.

Thoughts of her smokey lover brought a wide smile to her ashen labrums. Already the fluttering in her breast reminded her that soon she would begin to grow round with his foal, a breathing reminder of their devotion to one another. If only she could keep his devotion to her alone. Ears fall backwards at the thought of the spotted mare that he had named her equal. Sio was far from it in Nyimara's eyes but that did not stop the softness from gleaming in Bjorn's eyes whenever the mare was close. Nyimara could not help but to blame the red spotted woman for Bjorn's downfall. Everything had been fine before she appeared. Perhaps again Nyimara would take matters into her own hands. Bjorn must not grow weak.

The sounds of approaching hooves ring over the snow ladened winds. Defiantly regal crown lifts as auburn oods settle upon the pale golden form of Cullen. Like a sore thumb he stuck out against this land of dull grays whites and browns. Small ears fall backwards amid the snow dusted curls of her silver white mane. Lean muscles tense beneath her mahogany colored skin as Nyimara prepares to meet his charge head on. Sleek serpentine dips as crown drops, ready to wet her tongue once more with the flavor of his blood. Auburn ooids gleam in the dull gray light. She was far from finished with the Lagoon boss.

However before Cullen can close the distance between them, Bjorn is there. Small, cupped ears rotate forward as for a moment she allows her gaze to drink in the muscular image of the bear king that approaches. Thick muscles ripple as he slides to a stop between them, his glacier eyes fierce, fixated solely upon the intruding stallion. Her heart lurches hungerily as Nyimara slides into place at his side, her sleek hide rubbing against Bjorn's own, reminding him should he have forgotten, of the pleasure that blossomed beneath their touch.

Her own ash dusted labrums quiver as Nyimara keeps her amber gaze fixated upon Cullen, long silver white tail lashing with an audible snap against her sultry hips. "Need I remind you what happens when you touch what does not belong to you Cullen?" she asks, lifting her head once more to fix the golden stallion with a cold stare. Pink tongue slides from between parted lips to curl slowly over the velvet skin of her labrums. A single brow arches, "I would loooove too." she snickers, amusement clear upon her delicate features.