The mute stallion is subtle in his reactions, something that makes the conversation feel more and more one sided. The name passes over her lips and into the silence that holds between them. Subtly, he responds. It isn’t much, but the backward twitch of his curled ears and the flash of light in those predatory eyes of gold is enough to confirm his identity. Fell. Even without the faint hints of her sire’s odor mingling into the flavors of his skin, Nyimara recognizes now the similarities between them. The thick build of their bodies, the abundant layers of mane and tail, even the squareness of their jaws are similar. For a brief moment, a pang of jealousy flares within her. These are all features that she remembered longing for as a child. She might share the same color of her skin with Rougaru, but truthfully, that was where the similarities ended.

The silent chuckle that rattles his breast draws her from those red-rimmed thoughts. Dark eyes once more focus on her companion’s face as now his feral eyes darken and the thick set of his jaw tightens. Clearly her words had prodded a sensitive subject. A smirk draws at the corners of her own dark lips as she lifts her narrow muzzle a bit higher. He might not be well known, but she was. Perhaps it was a trait passed down by the old wolf, a desire to not only thrive, but strive for greatness.

Nyimara was quickly beginning to realize just how difficult and time consuming conversation with her black half brother could be. Not for the first time, she is reminded of how little patience she herself possesses. Irritation prickles the hairs along her spine but she does her best to hide it as her question about himself goes for the most part unanswered. Golden eyes glance about them, diverting her own gaze momentarily towards the sandy slopes of the dunes. However there is no unannounced visitors waiting in the wings for this silent creature. His dark brow raises as his gaze turns back towards hers. In an attempt to curve her vicious bite, Nyimara presses her lips together and inhales a deep breath. Did he really think she has gotten where she is by being gullible? Did he think his silence and handicap has made her stupid? She did not miss the strong spicy scent of mare clinging to his flesh nor did the distinctive odors of Tinuvel manage to hide beneath the layers of sand and dry air of Salem. He had secrets that he clearly preferred not to share; information that he did not intend to divulge. Was it fear? Was it pride? Despite her best efforts, his thoughts remain unreadable.”A quick visit then eh? Brother” the last word drips with tension. Two could play that game.

He glances towards her dunes that slope high above the serene oasis that surrounds them. Curiosity peaks its proud head higher as he offers her a meaningful glance. He wanted information? Two could play that game. Let him run back to Tinuvel with the jagged dagger of anxiousness in his heart. She did not know what kind of allegiance he had to the tall ice king but surely there must be something in the forms of a pact between the two for him to linger so long in the tundras. The damned Solomon had his hoof in everything and she found herself doubting that he would willingly set that aside so easily.

Nonetheless, Nyimara arches her long, graceful neck. Silver white tendrils of her mane dance and sway with the hot, dry breeze that blows across them. ”No. It isn’t just me here. MY herd has grown in numbers with many warriors and fierce battle ready mares and stallions waiting. The Dunes build the hardiest of horses and only those with the strongest will to survive will thrive here.” she purrs, pausing a moment to let the words linger between them. ’Not unlike Tinuvel’ she thinks to herself but keeps these words silent. Where Salem built fast, lean, and agile horses, Tinuvel with its long winters and deep blankets of snow had its own challenges. The horses who dwelled on the tundra island were thickly built and heavy in appearance. Predators such as wolves and the occasional white bear demanded that a herd work together to defend themselves. Otherwise the snows would bury their bodies beneath blankets of white and only bones and dried bits of hair might be found when finally summer revealed their grave.

When his whiskered muzzle tips towards the distant horizon where Atlantis lay, Nyimara finds herself biting back the venom in her words. ”I have no news on father. I was not made aware of his departure or the dispersal of his Paradise herd.” she muses, pawing the compact sand loose beneath her hooves. ”Must’a been something important I suppose… for him to leave like that without a word. Not that you could tell me even if you did know.” she quips, chuckling darkly at her mild attempt at humor. She shrugs her narrow shoulders and inclines her head dismissively, ”Oh well” she murmurs angling her head once more to study those depthless, multifaceted eyes of gold. ”Give my best to Solomon won’t you? I’m sure he has a lot of interest in what transpires around him when he holes himself up in the Cove.” The sarcasm drips from her tones but the implication is there. Once more, she places the ball in his court. Pokes the bear. She needed to see where his loyalties lay. Be it with family or an errand boy for the Ice king.