Nyimara is not thrilled about the idea of leaving her children alone on Luthien with just Callahan and her herd for protection but she has no choice. She had given the white stallion the authority to run his own herd as he saw fit but was the kind of leader only had children in tow? Not the leader she planned to be. So, with a soft kiss on each of their foreheads and a single glance at the stallion on guard, Nyimara had taken to the sea once more with determination in her dark eyes. Ash dusted lips pressed together as slender legs churn the water beneath her. The icy cold was fierce, but not nearly as overpowering and unbearable as the frosted waters that surrounded Tinuvel this time of year. It was that fact alone that kept her from venturing to those cursed shores to visit old friends. The rumors that spread to Luthien was that Bjorn had finally taken back the homeland he lost to Warsaw and that he he had brought Tigerlily and Siobhan with him. It would not surprise her for this to be true but still, there was something in the beast that needed to see it for herself.
Another time.
Water droplets pelt the sandy beach as she draws herself from the shallow surf with a vigorous shake. Small dark ears perk forward amid the damp tendrils of her mane as dark eyes scan the landscape before her. Darkness was setting in on the main island now, above the first of the night’s twinkling stars began to appear in the purple velvet sky above. The fingernail moon hung high in the sky, its pale silver blue light still muted by the sun’s last attempts to retain the sky for itself. Paper thin nostrils flare as the chocolate colored mare lets a heavy breath escape her lips, the steam from her breath rising like smoke from the nostrils of a dragon. As a child, she had loved this time of day, when darkness was just beginning to creep over the lands and leaving only those who were keen of sight able to fully view the land unhindered by dark shadows. She had always been one of those creatures, moving with stealth ease through the underbrush and leaf litter as though daylight shone brightly. She liked to imagine herself then as a predator, hunting prey in silence and leaping from the brush at passing strangers with a squeal and occasionally biting teeth. Mother had never enjoyed that game, but father, well, Rougaru never condemned her for it.
Small fluted ears press forward amid sterling silver locks as the soft call rings out, breaking through the soft hum of crickets that murmur against the skeletal trees. Dark crown lifts as Nyimara blinks against the shadows, her searching gaze intent as the smile on her lips. Perhaps the early bird would get the worm after all.
She does not stalk through the deflated yellow brown grasses of the common, but instead moves with languid steps that were unhurried and at ease. Despite what the fates had thrown at her, she still clawed and bit and fought her way up from the bottomless abyss that would have drowned any other. She could do this.
At first she does not see the mare, the pale color of her skin blending into the snow frosted landscape unprotected by the sheltering branches of the nearby pine and cedar trees. That is, until the woman moves. Dark eyes fix on the pretty pale woman shrouded by snowflakes. A single dial twitches again as the woman echoes her call again, this time, Nyimara responds with a warm tenured nicker of her own in response. Slender legs pick up a quickened trot, closing the distance between them with a friendly smile etched into place upon her lips. Sleek mahogany neck arches, long silver white locks cascading heavily down the curve of her throat as she comes to a halt in front of the woman with a pleasant smile. ”Greetings stranger. You are not from around here are you?” she begins with an inquisitive tilt of her finely dished head. ”My name is Nyimara, queen of the Savanna…. Would you care to share warmth with me?” she asks, bobbing her head gently in a beckoning motion, inviting the woman nearer. Even she could lay nice when necessity demanded it.