Desert

Salem was changing, whether for the better or worse it had yet to determine itself yet. Small fluted ears pitch forward amid the silver white curls of her mane. Paper thin nostrils flare as the arabic woman lifts her head to send a keen gaze over the horizon. Aside from the occasional huff or snort of the small conclave she managed to gather, the desert was silent except to those who knew it best. Occasionally, the sound of buzzing insects could be heard, or the rustle of drying grass from the passing of an arid breeze. Every now and then, a lone coyote would cry its pitiful sounding howl in hopes of communicating to nearby packmates. The world was still and yet Nyimara found herself in turmoil.

There was a new rumor that managed to reach her ears, a rumor that was running rampant on the main island. Faolain had taken her leave of the islands, but even that was not enough for the silver haired witch. There was no extraction of blood from the dark mare, no white rimmed eyes filled with terror as they faced the wrath that was the old wolf’s daughter. Desperately Nyimara sought to fill her vengeance and yet in the cover of darkness, Faolain fled leaving the desert queen void of any satisfaction. Anger seethed beneath her skin, pulsing through her veins like venom, burning and aching with a hunger that could not be sated.

Desperately, she had sought council with the old wolf, begging to find some semblance of peace with a plan that might remotely give her satisfaction. It was not just Faolain that Nyi wanted to suffer. She wanted them all to burn. Solomon, Siobhan, Cullen, Bjorn, Tigerlily, Ysabel… all of them deserved her hate for the wrongs that they have laid at her feet. However, the biggest question was how it was that she might come about their downfall.

Teeth grind behind closed lips as she ponders the ideas that come to mind. She could steal from each and every one of them, deplete their herds and scar their young with fear. She could spread rumors from one island to the other in hopes of sowing discord and chaos amongst the herds, turning one against the other. That idea was specifically tantalizing. However even that was not enough and that ran the risk of more monsters like Faolain just waiting until her eye was elsewhere to strike. No. She needed to do something to keep all eyes from turning on the Desert. United. Rafe would not be hard to get under her thumb, well, call it mutual attraction. Aside from what had once been with Bjorn, the silver haired woman has never quite felt the same hum of pleasure as the badlands stallion brings her. His quick wit and sly smile is enough to send even the most skilled of lovers swooning at his heels. Nyimara however, found pleasure in the challenges that he offered and quite frankly, the idea of being tied to him through blood was not entirely without its merits. She would visit him again soon, ensure that their bargain still remained intact and see what he had found of the other two herds. It did not hurt letting another do the dirty work, at least that way she could prepare herself for how to handle them. If she could somehow unite Salem beneath her rule, the force of their fierce herds might be enough to topple the island of ice and snow. The satisfaction of seeing Solomon groveling at her heels was all too appealing. A vicious smile curves across her lips, yes… things were falling into place for the first time in a long long time.