The onslaught of wind strengthens as the storm presses down upon them. Uhtred trembled as the tall colt pressed his body close to hers. Any other mother might have reached for him with gentle whispers of encouragement, any other mother might have draped her neck across his own and drew him in close. Any other mother, was not Nyimara. At nearly two years of age, the colt as already as tall as she was and the gangliness of his sturdy legs promised that he still had much growing to do. Dark ears rotate backwards as she leans the weight of her body against his own. He would weather out this storm just like herself and in the end, he would be stronger for it. ’Stronger than his weakass father.’ those words remain silent on her lips but scream loudly enough in her mind. Tyr would have his day of reckoning soon enough and Uhtred would be the one to deal the fatal blow. At least, that was what she hoped for.

A shadow appears through the haze of sand. The dark form manifests itself in the form of Kara. The graying mare moves with the same ease that she herself felt as a desert bred woman. Though she had never spoken it, Nyimara knew that Kara had not been pleased when she had suggested recouping in Paradise before striking out again. Thanks to Rougaru’s disappearance from Paradise, that had been something quite short lived.

Instead of pressing into what shelter the skinny acacia and date palms had to offer, Kara instead turns to angle her dark gray body in front of them, attempting to block what she could of the sand from pelting herself and Uhtred. Since meeting in the desert, the muscular gray mare had tried her best to prove her worth, even so far as seeking her out on the ruins when Nyimara has even lost herself. It was Kara that pulled her through the worst of the storm of emotions that rose like turbulent waters in her mind. Her devotion and belief in the purpose that Nyimara promised that caused her to press on. A low nicker rumbles from her lungs, exhaled in a deep breath stolen away by the whipping wind. She wants to reach for the gray mare and encourage her closer, to share what shelter the three bodies together might create. She starts to take a step forward with head bent low when the warmth of another draws her dulled senses. The dark stallion’s musk is hidden beneath the suffocating thickness of sand in the air. Tension builds beneath her skin but there is nothing that she dare to do about his forward inclusion into her personal space now. A lost traveler seeking refuge in the storm? Perhaps so.

He presses against her side, sending an electric current of emotions rising. Fall was upon the other islands and the passion and lust that accompanied the season was thick and heady upon her own skin. It has been awhile since she felt a stallion’s embrace. Bjorn had been the only to seek her touch for more than mere means of procreation. Bjorn and Shenzi…. The thought of the dark woman clenches in her throat. Shenzi had dared to touch her like this once. Those days were gone now.

He draws closer still, his solid frame exciting her already charged body. He leans towards her, pressing his dark muzzle close to her breast and causing the carefully bated breath to quicken in time to her heartbeat. In that moment, Kara and even Uhtred, pressed firmly against her other side are forgotten. She arches her long neck to trap his muzzle against her own. Long silver white forelock whips across her brow, dancing on the invisible fingers of the billowing zephyrs. ’Damn them.’ whispers her thoughts as once more images of Bjorn and Shenzi rise behind her closed eyes. She can picture them in this stranger’s touch and how her heart and body alike longed for it. ’Damn them all.’ her mind whispered as she cranes her neck to let her own velvet labrums trail over the sand encrusted tendrils of his dancing mane. Lips part to pinch his skin between her jaws before releasing again to rub her muzzle back and forth across the ruffled hairs. He was not them. She blinks past the stinging sea of sand and withdraws her muzzle. Red. Crimson red hairs coated in a fine layer of sand brush against her lips. Not the dark inky brown of Shenzi or the smoky blue of Bjorn.

And yet even in that knowledge that the one pressed so intimately against her is neither of her former lovers, Nyimara does not push him away. His broad body blocks much of the biting storm and the newness of his presence is enough for her to tolerate the bold action without trying to kick or shoulder him away. The storm coiled around them. Minutes seemed like hours as she counted each breath that he blew hot against her already smoldering skin. As the winds begin to subside, Nyimara too can stand it no longer and shifts her weight, pivoting her hips against Uhtred to force the grullo colt to take a step out of her way.

For the first time she sets her eyes upon him fully, ravaging his body with her dark gaze. ”You are either a bold fool or just a fool…” she purrs, her lilted words honey coated venom as she continues, ”To wander these parts during such a storm.” she finishes. Her long ivory tail twitches back and forth against her hip like that of a hunting cat on the prowl for its next meal. ”Which is it?” she says, raising her dark gaze to meet the startling gold yellow of his own..