VaLkA

mare / five / chestnut pangare / yakut / 13.0 hh

Though they had been distant physically over the course of the past couple seasons, Medusa was never far from the skjaldmær’s thoughts.

It had been surprising, at first, for Valka to discover just how much she enjoyed the process of honing the young mare’s abilities just as a human warrior might have whetted a sword. Not that Rougaru’s daughter had lacked for sharpness of any sort before they had grown close. Though the Yakut would never be capable of any emotion but resentment and wariness for the chocolate stallion, she had to admire the strength and cunning that he’d passed along to his child. Of course, if Medusa was to be believed, her mother was just as capable. Perhaps some day, Valka would even be granted the opportunity to meet the mare herself.

But right now, she would have been content simply to see her friend again.

Unfortunately, it was no longer as simple as journeying to the boundary between the Inlet and the Bay. Things on Tinuvel had been complicated by the monarchy that Valka’s challenge had set into motion. She could not be certain of her welcome by Ironclad, whose sire had once been King - and who had failed to secure the title for himself. And despite her fondness for Medusa, the stocky chestnut was secretly glad that he had not been able to defeat Solomon. To this day, she still clung stubbornly to the bad blood that had existed between them since shortly after her arrival on the Islands - and not entirely without reason. Thus far, the young stallion had shown no hints of remorse for his actions in trading Valka away like a possession. And while the Cove’s ruler had not necessarily proven himself to be any more sympathetic towards the rights of his feminine subjects, Solomon at least had the benefit of age. He was more level-headed - and wiser - than the impulsive leader of the Inlet.

The potential of a confrontation might not have been enough to keep the Yakutian mare from Medusa’s side, but things in the Bay had become volatile in their own right. When her old enemy had appeared that late winter’s day, Valka had been certain that one of them would end their eternal battle there. And even with the strong possibility that it might have been her left lifeless on the ground, the pony-sized creature felt a measure of regret that she had chosen to back down. So far, the Icelandic had not betrayed the tentative trust she’d given him, but the constant fear and uncertainty was beginning to gnaw away at her. To make matters worse, Valka hungered to explore more of the islands but could not trust that he would not return and inflict the punishment he’d withheld from her on those she was sworn to protect in her absence.

It was a dilemma, and one that occupied Valka’s thoughts just as often - if not more - than her young friend. And yet when Medusa’s cry reached the mare’s short little ears, she could not help but to shed some of the burdens that had been pressing hard upon her. Moving first at a ground-eating trot - and then increasing her pace into a rapid canter - the skjaldmær raced to meet the tobiano mare. And once Medusa was in sight, she did not seek to disguise her enthusiasm as she might have in the past.

Instead, Valka greeted Rougaru’s daughter with a sharp squeal, flicking her heels briefly upward. That accomplished, she finally slid to a halt - but even motionless her excitement was evident. Pawing a furrow into one of the few remaining pockets of snow that still dotted the Bay, the Yakut tossed her almost-white mane and flared her nostrils at her young protégé in mock-disapproval. “It is too long since we train together, Medusa. Were you afraid that last time was just luck, and I put you back in place if we fight again?”