Meadow

It is amazing how many simultaneous thoughts one can keep in the air when forced to. He can consider what it might be like to trail a line of fire down the speckled dip of her back with his muzzle while also committing to memory the way she shudders at his nearness. He can conjecture that her shudder equates to desire, and at the same time wonder if her skin would taste of the desert, or if the saltwater had washed her free of it. Would even some small part of him linger on her skin, just by being this close? Meanwhile, his inner voice tries to scream above the cacophony that he is playing with fire.

Not just fire. Wildfire.

He is playing with wildfire and he is going to get burned. Somewhere deep in his mind he knows that even if she were amenable to his touch, it will not play out as he hopes. They will not fall into each other in such a way as to convince her to come home with him immediately and leave the Badlands and Roheryn behind. No, even if they were to give in, she would still leave him after and return to the Badlands and to her loverboy. He knows this, and yet he does not care. Feray has been beyond his reach for as long as he can remember. Both by her choice and by location, and yet she is here now by her own choice. Close enough that each breath he drags in is saturated with the scent of her and the lure of it's potential.

Thankfully she is quick to respond to his awkward question, her lyrical voice filling the quiet and giving him something else to think of other than the possibility of them coming together. His emerald gaze lifts from the leaf-strewn path to study her as she speaks, not surprised to hear that she has had more children than just the one he'd seen at her side. He never learned what had made her so worried that night in the Badlands, or if the child she had been so afraid for had recovered.

It does amuse him to hear the notes of jealousy in her voice as she speaks of Roheryn's new mares. He hadn't thought the stallion had it in him to spend attention on anyone other than Feray, but then again, Roheryn was forever surprising him with the amount of luck he seemed to wield. He'd once held both Nadja and Feray in his hands and hadn't had the sense to see the treasures at his doorstep. It occurs to him that Feray's disappointment may be deeper than just that of a jilted lover, and he worries that perhaps his diminutive rival is neglecting her in other ways.

Obviously, Feray was far more adept at physically surviving in the desert than Nadja had been, but was she capable of surviving an emotional wasteland? Knowing that such a line of thought was presumptuous at best, and he tries to quickly discard it but it lingers in the back of his mind. Was this the reason she had come to the Crossing? To find someone that would care for her as she deserved?

"How are they? Your sons, I mean." There is genuine concern in his voice. Even though he may be jealous of the sire that created them, it did not mean that he wished harm upon his family.

A moment passes and she shifts the attention from herself onto him, and he chuckles at her presumptions even as his mind raced at the implications of the casual brush of her hip. What might it be like to nibble at the juncture of her flank, where the skin was sensitive and ticklish? Would she shy away in laughter or lean in to press him away? Again, he struggles to keep his focus but it has begun to occur to him that he may not be the only one playing this game with a handicap of distraction. As much as he would have liked to have convinced Nzingha to stay with him in his herd as his own advisor to the spirits, she had been adamant in her desire to return to Xiomara. Casting an appreciative glance toward Feray, he elaborated. "She visited some time ago for a few months, but has since returned to Xiomara."

Mentioning the warrior queen is bittersweet. At the time of Xiomara's visit, things had still been tense with Ensign held captive in the Shore. It had occurred to him that he could keep her prisoner as a way to negotiate Ensign's release, but he had chosen a different path instead. Opting to keep the tone light, rather than delving too deep into the complicated politics that surrounded his opinion of the Shore Queen, he reaches across to brush her shoulder in a playful nudge. "Although, if kidnapping her for a few months is enough to bait you into a visit, I'll do it."

He allows a step or two of quiet before he continues, his gaze flicking back up to her. "I do think you'd like it there." And he does. While the temperatures of the two lands exist in dire juxtaposition to one another, there is a similar sentiment between them. Only the hardy survive in either clime. "Although," he pauses for a breath, hoping to draw her face to his so that he might view her reaction, even as a playful smirk winds its way across his lips. "It is definitely a land that encourages cuddling. I'm not sure you could handle getting that close to me."

There is a challenge in his words, one that he had hoped to make more subtle. But in the face of her casual affection, he was nearly desperate to see if he was merely imagining her interest, or if something between them had shifted toward something much, much better.

Solomon