Both were very well guarded with their own emotions, but Feray knew how well her actions and words had gotten under his skin. She has set ablaze a new wave of feelings inside the cove leader, and herself. For a moment, after her words become empty air, she wishes him to say no; to turn down her offer for both their sakes and what was left of their sanity. Of course he doesn't, Solomon was getting what he had wanted for so long, her company. What was it about the cove leader that rubbed her the wrong way, that made her paint this image of him in her head where he was the bad guy? Yes, she had reasons to hate him as he tried to court her away that night, with her firstborn so close and in distress, but beyond that Feray was left grasping at empty conclusions to what she truly felt in regards to him.
His whiskered nose runs a path of fire along her already heated skin, an accidental touch perhaps, as he settles alongside her. He unnerves her, this male, with his puppy dog eyes and smooth talking tongue. A shaky breath is exhaled, eyes closing to momentarily gather her wits about her before taking the first step forward and then another till she takes up an easy pace, mindful of the brushing of their shoulders when forced to come closer to each other. “The fates have an unusual sense of humor,” she retorts with a toss of her head and eyes rolling from his flirting ways, yet it doesn't stop her own mind from wandering; what if?
Did the fates really wish to pair the two, or was it just taking advantage of the rut and evolving it tenfold on the unsuspecting pair?
The silence between them is deafening, an awkward silence of what to say or what to do. Feray is thankful when he at last breaks it or else she might have put a bit more hurry in her steps to lose him in the trees. Nzingha, the mare they shared a common ground on, and the one Feray had won that morning for her captor Xiomara; to appease the warrior woman that had captivated her so. The skull face wearing girl was an oddity, but she understood the spirits better than Feray herself did, or had begun to. “Unfortunately yes,” Feray answers him on a sigh, lifting her face into the breeze that berates them, her dark locks of hair lifting into the winds, “I kept home after my firstborn Ajnur, but then became pregnant once more with my son Felarof. I have had my hooves full with the pair of them, and the rest of the women my male seems to keep bringing home.” Was she jealous? If anything Feray had been glad he was branching out, making connections and making their little herd bigger, but the biggest question in her mind would forever torment her; did he love them as he loved her?
“What of you Sol?,” her voice is oddly warm yet full of concern for the stallion at her side, eager to draw the questions from onto herself, “have you seen our darling Nzingha? Does she fare well in the home of the shore or have you succeeded in courting her home to the cove?.” Feray tilts her head at him, eying him with mirth from the blue hue of her eye that is on the side he walks. “Am i to risk my own rescue mission for her?,” she lightly teases him, bumping her spotted hip against his own, the second time she willingly touches him on her own and oddly it feels right.
Are you watching fates?