Desert

The silver bay stallion searched for her for months when Nyimara came to him with the news. For weeks on end he had waited near the border of the Ridge in hopes of confronting her over the death of Nycol. He had taken her disappearance as proof that his silver haired daughter’s words were true, even if he found it hard to believe. Though their way of accomplishing things ultimately differed, still Rougaru had always imagined Faolain to be a mare of steady reasoning. To think she would stoop so low as to take the life of a child was almost as crazy as screaming that the sky was falling. She had called him a monster on more than one occasion and yet the realization had horrified even him. Even if Nyimara had not been on the warpath in search of her, Rougaru himself would have surely put her down himself. She had to be rabid.

But so must he right?

He must have lost his mind to think that he could find Zjeena and Monster on the mainland. He must be an idiot to think that he could leave Paradise in Vanya’s grasp and it would still be intact when he returned. Maybe it was his brain that was addled.

At least that was what he thought when the faintly familiar scent swept over him. Dark muzzle lifts from the sandy grasses as the once proud head turns to let fierce gaze settle on the approaching figure. A mirage. A ghost. Surely the near skeletal figure that approached him now must be a wraith sent to guide him down into the depths beyond death’s door. He takes a step towards the apparition, multifaceted eyes blinking against the blinding sunlight. Faolain. Well, what he imagined the mare’s ghost might look like. ”Why….” Of all the figures in his life, of all those long gone, why was it Faolain that appeared for him now? Why her? The wolf has no answers. For once, the beast is strangely silent.

Thunder. The sound draws his gaze to the bright blue sky above, searching for the dark pregnant clouds that accompanied a summer storm. Not even a puff of white breaks the startling blue and yet the thundering sound strengthens. He blinks. Once. Twice. His ears twitch and suddenly the sound of discernable hoofbeats breaks through his thoughts. Someone was approaching and from the sound of their hooves, none too pleased.

And then he sees her.

Titania. In a cloud of dust she slides to a stop beside what was once Faolain. Emerald eyes blink away the clouds of confusion as the wolf claw’s desperately towards the surface. Fire and brimstone burn in her eyes as she locks him within her gaze. Her defiant head lifts with authority as she snaps viciously at Faolain without bothering to look at her. So… not a ghost. Good or bad? He had no answers for that one yet.

Her tone gentles as she speaks of an oasis to the north. His dark ears perk forward at the sudden change in her voice. She was offering shelter to him? After all that he had put her through? After all she put herself through the wolf reminded him. He was not the bad guy. Not entirely. He had offered her shelter and protection. Was it his fault that again and again she rebuked him? Hell there was even a time when he would have made her his queen, but that did not matter anymore. The memories were left buried in Paradise and whatever new stranger decided to dig them up.

Once more her tone hardens and he lifts his head just a bit. The invitation had been for Faolain. He would have imagined that Vanya’s treachery taughter his star girl better than to befriend a stranger. Oh well. It was her funeral. Well, the funeral of her children really. However that thought hardened his own gaze as he risked a glance back to the blood stained nag. Her children were his children too. That would not do.

Once more TItania fires her words towards Faolain, as though she did not even deem him worthy to speak too. The cooling embers of his pride glow to life. ”Scoundrel?” he asks, a coy grin skiing across his whiskered lips. ”Come now Titania, surely after all we have been through together you can do better than that.”