VaLkA

mare / six / chestnut pangare / yakut / 13.0 hh

The skjaldmær’s heart ached for her young friend when Medusa mentioned her doubts, and the impulse to try and stand between Medusa and the world was strong. But Valka was wise enough to know that such trials served a purpose—and so she offered nothing more than the reassurance of her closeness and a knowing glance. Had she been more accustomed to sharing the contents of her heart, the fluffy chestnut might have spoken as well—might have shared her own struggles beyond the simple truth that she missed her son. But it was still difficult to embrace the weakness of her own emotions, even now that Valka understood they had also granted her a new kind of strength. Strength that came from forming friendships, and strength that firmed the resolve she felt to protect those whom she had grown to care for.

Like Medusa, whom Valka had come to cherish more than one of her battle-sisters, and whom she would guard with more devotion than any king.

Whether Rougaru’s daughter had sensed the brief tension that played across the surface of the Yakut’s skin or seen the flicker of fear in her dark eyes, the reassurances that she offered—both verbal and otherwise—were welcomed. Medusa had a gift for offering such tokens in a way that never left the receiver feeling indebted to her, as well. It was one of the qualities in her that Valka had known would make her a great leader… and one that she had aspired to achieve herself. Snorting and rolling her eyes one final time in response, the stout mare fixed Medusa with a stern gaze—a moment that was broken almost instantly by the reappearance of her smile.

“Flattery is not often successful with Valka,” she spoke in mock-admonishment. “In this case, however, I am convinced to spare you another losing battle. But next time I will come see you in Inlet, and we will fight to show Ironclad that he would be wise to remember that his Queen is strong—and has even stronger ally.” Arching her neck to lean into a breath of wind that bore down on both from the north, Valka breathed deeply of the scents of snow and pine before tipping her head to indicate her intention to move in the direction of its source.

“Will you let badass walk you to border of home?” The chestnut asked, smirking at Medusa to show the young mare that her humor—along with her kindness—was beginning to leave its mark on the Bay’s protector.