Fury colored her vision red as Nyimara charged through the frothy waves. Rage burned through her very soul as she thrust herself onto the shores of mirk and mud without care. Dark mahogany ears bury back beneath the thick mantle of cream and caramel tresses that plaster along the water darkened curve of her neck. Pale lashes blink past the sting of the salt water that slides down the delicate curve of her cheeks, mingling with the hot stain of tears. Labor to bring Cato into the world had taken its toll on the fiery woman, but even the birth of her newest child had done nothing to sate her anger and hatred for the damned black woman. Knowing that the black witch resided just beyond the border of Paradise was almost too much to bear.

Despite her reserve about leaving a newborn, Nyimara relies on the strength of the old wolf once more and seeks to comfort her own soul. Thoughts of Shenzi burned through her mind until the desire left her with no other option. She knew the risk of entering the herd of stallions alone, but at this moment, she had no care of them. The truth was, she would gladly fight any that dared to appear to separate her from the russet woman. They had spent more than enough time apart at the hands of the slathering dogs.

She gives her body a sharp shake, the water logged ends of her silver white mane snapping audibly against the sloping arch of her neck. Fluted ears flatten against her skullcap as the dark woman lifts her lithe limbs above the oozing black mud that dragged at her belly. She hated the lagoon, its brackish water was warm against her skin and the deep mud seemed to find a way to stick to her coat regardless of how many times she rolled in the sand or washed in the ocean afterwards, the stench seemed to remain. However, that did not matter to her now. She would take the stench and anything else as long as it meant that she would be reunited with Shenzi.

The ends of her silver white tail stain brown as she wades through the dense sawgrasses and sharp edged palmetto palms, her dark eyes bloodshot and searching. Ash dusted lips press together firmly as she ducks beneath a swaying strand of loose spanish moss hanging down from the lower branches of an old cypress tree. Paper thin nostrils flare as she sifts through the scents that the wind provided to pinpoint what she needed. What she craved.

Even in this world of men, Shenzi stands apart. The flavor of her scent hangs heavy with the pungent aromas of the lagoon and yet even with that Shenzi’s scent seems to burn apart. Like a moth to a flame, Nyimara finds herself drawn to her, the dark chocolate brown color of her skin standing out against the bright greens and yellow cattails of the lagoon. Even as she comes near to her, the silver haired witch does not stop until she is pressed against her. A deep throaty growl rumbles from her lungs as she leans into Shenzi’s scarred neck. ”He is gone… my boy… he is gone.” she hisses, the venom in her voice soaked in the pain that tainted her soul. Ash dusted nostrils flare as deeply she inhales Shenzi’s scent, drawing strength from the familiarity of the flavors hanging there. Long, pale lashes close tightly as she chokes back the sudden wave of anguish, fighting off the blame that she wants to scream. Had she just been there. If it had been her instead of Nycol perhaps the boy would not be lost to the fates.

For a few moments she remains silent, a statue against the dappled sunlight that bled from the canopy above. Only the gentle rise and fall of her chest and the zephyrs through her silver tresses sign that life remained beneath. How she wanted Faolain’s blood on her hooves. How she longed to taste the metallic tang of the dark woman’s flesh between her teeth. Despite the calm reassurance that often came with Shenzi’s presence, Nyimara begins to quake as the rage boils within her veins. ”She killed him…. Faolain.” she breathes, her voice hoarse with emotion. ”She stole his life when I came for yours.” he heaves, dragging in a deep breath so that the next words could be ground into Shenzi’s sleek coat. ”The coward could not even face me herself!!” Her hooves strike out beneath her now, unable to quell the rage that flooded her senses. She knew she should be content that Rougaru was now on the warpath. She should be content to know that his herd too fumed at the loss that devoured her. She should be content that even Callahan knew what it was that Faolain had done but it was not enough. Nyimara wanted to scream it from the islands and demand the Ridge queen’s blood be spilled for her entertainment.

Desperately she clings to the red mare, sliding her ashen lips over the scars that map her neck and withers. Dark ears rotate forward as she caresses the battle worn curve of Shenzi’s cheek and presses the flat of her brow into the curved bone of the dark mare’s jawline. Cautiously she inhales a deep breath and exhales in slow succession, trying to ignore the pounding of blood in her ears. ”You are with me.” she whispers, her sultry tones heavy with emotion as she speaks. There is no question in her words but mere statement for she knows the answer without even asking it. ”Are you ready now” she murmurs, drawing back from the dark woman to fixate her fierce gaze on Shenzi’s. Tension holds within every fiber of her body, screaming for release that only the dark mare can provide. All she needed to hear was the word.