She watches him with the same wary intensity that she would find herself eyeing a snake in her path. He was family, that should have meant some sort of loyalty on her part. In another time and place perhaps it might have. However, with the absence of Rougaru and his herd in Paradise and no trace or hint of his whereabouts, her list of allies had grown quite thin. Practically nonexistent to be completely honest. While she felt fairly certain that Rafe and Marceline would still be reliable, she had yet to determine if they were even still in power themselves. If anything she had learned since first coming to the islands it's that circumstances can change in an instant.

It would seem that the black stallion shared her philosophy. His intense, golden gaze mirrors her own but still there is no comment from his lips. Instead of responding to her question, the obsidian hellion merely shakes his head. So Rougaru has not sent him. Interesting. She is careful to keep the thoughts from her gaze and instead places a mask of indifference firmly into place. She would take what she could get and decide later how to use it. She did not need the dark stud to realize that he had information she did not. She has learned it is best to keep her collection of information to herself until it's most beneficial to her to release it.

He meet her outstretched muzzle, his whiskers tickling the sensitive hairs that line her nostrils. The silver haired woman inhales a deep breath of his scent, recognizing the strong pungent odor of spruce and permafrost that could belong only to Tinuvel. She exhales this breath, hiding her disgust in the form of a sneeze. Dramatically, she bends her long neck and stretches out a foreleg to rub her muzzle against as if to further emphasize the itch. She highly doubted Solomon had abandoned his island. For the black stallion to find a herdland there could only mean that she ought to keep her wits about her. The Tinuvel monarch had a tendency to stick his nose into places it did not belong, perhaps this was his messenger. The thought makes her skin crawl.

He does not reply to her words, instead, his curved ears press back against his muscular neck and now the look on his face is clear irritation. His thick tail snaps audibly against his dark hip. He brushes past her, his attention suddenly on the oasis and its rejuvenating waters. Nyimara resists the urge to squeal and reach out to pinch his flesh in warning. How dare he! However that is when the realization begins to sink in. Mute! Vaguely she remembers the gossip in Paradise about a colt that had such an affliction. It had made for difficult communication with him and many of the mares and children there had simply ignored him. Very few seemed to actually try to communicate with him and even those few had remarked about how short tempered he had been. But what was his name?

”Fell.” she says finally, pivoting on her own heels to turn and join at his side. Her skin shivers as she brushes against him, stepping to his side and stretching her small labrums out to trace the line of his crest down to his brow. ”I remember you now.” she whispers, a coy smile teasing her lips upward as she retracts her touch and blinks down into his golden eyes. ”Make a name for yourself yet?” she asks, her own curiosity peaked. She had quite a few open slots for alliances and it didn’t hurt to fill a few with family, even if she was not willing to completely trust them. A single fluted ear tips forward. ”Are you alone?” she asks, her own dark eyes unreadable as she stares at him.