Nyimara recognizes the dry sense of humor in his words and cannot help the huffing exhaled snort or the upturned twist of her lips. Dark eyes glitter as she watches him. In another time and place, she might have found his sarcastic remark appealing. However she recognizes it now for what it is. A stallion attempting to hide his shame. ’How does it feel to be traded off like a mare?’ she wants to ask. She wants to remind him that this is how she felt when Solomon sold her off to the Lagoon stallions like a piece of property. She wanted to remind him that it was because of the shame and disgust that she felt guarding herself and her newborn daughter that she held such a vendetta against the stallions. He viewed her now as the monster but it was them who had helped to create that beast. The only difference is that now she is unbridled; unrestrained. She was the queen of the Dunes and there was nothing that Rehoboam could do about his fate now but accept it.

For a moment, the silver haired witch wonders if he will choose to stay here and roast in the intense heat and sunlight that scorched the island of Salem at midday. Dark eyes watch him as he cast a longing gaze towards the crossing isle that rose like a purple behemoth above the distant horizon. Deep, deep down, the first hint of guilt burns into her gut. She remembered that look; it had been in her own eyes when she first came to the Lagoon. She too had stared out across the glittering ocean towards the distant isle of Tinuvel where Arnack and their kingdom in the Arch laid. The spider stallion had not come for her as she hoped he would. He had left her to her shame alone in the Lagoon. He had left her to her own hopelessness. Now, seeing it in the eyes of another, she felt guilt; but it did not last long. His sarcastic voice rings out to her as he steps towards her with a reluctant sigh. His hooves drag through the shifting sand as he comes abreast of her and patiently she waits for him to crest the rise before starting off again with him at her side. The guilt disappears.

For a long moment they continue in silence only broken by the shuffle of their feet over sand. The hot sun beats down upon their backs, a faint sheen of sweat darkening the mahogany skin behind her ears and mane. She finds herself lost in her own thoughts, savoring the scent of the stallion at her side and trying to place why it was that it tasted so familiar. Of course he had been in the Lagoon when she had been held captive, but he had been the one to block her attempt to free Shenzi. They had met albeit briefly. Still, there was something far more familiar to him that she could not quite place…. Yet.

He speaks again, the sarcasm once more tainting the deep baritones of his voice as he gruffly turns his head towards her. His dark auburn eyes are filled with suspicion. Despite that, Nyimara cannot help but to chuckle lightly at the humor of his implication, her own dark eyes twinkling with mischief. ”No, there is a lot more physical contact when it comes to MY style of flirting…” she begins her voice rich with honey soaked venom as her lithe figure brushes the barest of touches against his shoulder. Amusement still colored her gaze as she lunged forward to put some distance between them once more. Taunt muscles coil as the agile mare bounds effortlessly up the drift to wait for him to join her. ”Where is it you come from Rehoboam?” she asks, her tone losing all hints of sensuality that it had held only moments before. Dark mahogany ears stand at attention amid the tumble of silver white mane that frames the elegant curve of her throat. ”You must have come from somewhere before the Lagoon sucked you in…. Where is it?” she asks tilting her chiseled head back towards him expectantly. All in good time…. All in good time.