Nyimara liked to think that if she had first gotten her claws into the Ice king, Solomon would not have dared to ever treat her in the manner in which he had. Ysabel had lucked out on that one. Solomon stuck around while Bjorn constantly found reasons to disappear and leave his herd undefended again and again. Perhaps that too was why she found herself hating the little golden mare so fiercely. She had a king to do her bidding and Nyimara was forced to wear the scars herself.

However the die has been cast and regardless of the ‘what ifs’ she might fantasize about in the quiet hours of early morning, there is nothing to be done to change the current course of action. Solomon sealed his fate the moment he sent her packing to the Lagoon and its bachelor stallions. Now don’t get me wrong, as must as she despised Cullen for what the golden stallion stood for, she could not deny that even he had a way of drawing her close with his promises of a brighter future. The simple fact that it had failed in the long run was not entirely his fault of course, but that did not mean she didn’t blame him either. Had he kept better control of the stallion’s under his rule then he would not have been so easily dethroned. To make matters even worse, he had been all too quick to snatch the Hills away from her over reaching grasp the moment she left Salem. No, her opinion of the Lagoon would never be a positive one and regardless of who it was who suffered, Nyimara was determined to make them all pay dearly. One by one if need be.

Of course she cannot be sure whether his words are truth or fiction, but the length of time that passes between them in silence causes her to question how accurate his story might be. A single brow arches suspiciously as she studies the fine lines of his handsome face for a sign. However, like any true poker player, he shrugs off her question with a roll of his shoulders, leaving her to scoff to herself in silence. She continues on down the unmarked dunes, savoring the give of the warm sand beneath her hooves as an almost companionable silence settles between them.

Now it is his attempt at conversation. A single twitch of her small mahogany ears amid the cascading rivulets of silver white mane are at first her only reaction to his words. ’Things are different now than it was under Cullen.’ Despite her best attempt to hide her reaction, Nyimara snorts in disbelief and shoots Rehoboam a hard glare. The Lagoon? Different? Hardly. Regardless of whatever sales pitch he had carefully assembled in his mind, there would be nothing that he could say or do that would sway her decision to behead the bachelor herd and scatter the entrails to the far ends of the islands. Teeth clamp together tightly. Partly to prevent her from revealing her plans to the loyal stallion and partly to keep her barbed retort silent. He was fishing and she did not need him to know just how deep her hatred for the Lagoon went.

”Here we are.” she purrs at last, picking up a swifter three beat gait as the tall acacia trees and date palms greeted them from the other side of the Dune. Beneath the tall trees, the muddy waters glisten in the sunlight, a welcome encouragement to any with a salt parched tongue. She comes to a slow halt at the banks of the river, wading into the shallow waters to quench her own thirst as Rehoboam catches up. Dark ears swivel backwards at the sound of his words as he tilts his head towards her, hungry to peek beneath the curtain of secrets she held so tightly in place. A coy grin spreads once more across her lips as slowly she lifts her muzzle from the water, droplets of muddy water disappearing in the churned waters beneath her hooves. ”I have my reasons…” she teases, her voice almost sing-song in sadistic pleasure. If she were completely honest with herself, he was simply the choice that stood out in the pack of mangy hounds. Tyr was… well… Tyr. Too wrapped up in his own lies and character mutilation to see up from down. The red boy… well, he just wasn’t as pretty to look at. Rehoboam stood out in the crowd with his loudly colored gray and white coat and those ‘oh so enticing’ dark eyes set high on a chiseled face. Who wouldn’t want to be able to lord over the rest of the islands that he was all but her man servant for the next few weeks or until she grew tired of the sight of him? The fact that he was also Solomon’s get was merely an added bonus, but that was one that would not come full circle until he is released to run back to daddy with the news.

”I want you to suffer as I suffered.” she whispered, the words growing dark with the flood of memories that flash through her mind. Dark ears pin tight against her skull now as she lunges towards him only to slide to a halt just in front of him with a splash of water. ”I want you to feel what I felt those long months held captive and subservient to you stallions.” she hisses as the fumes of her rage boil higher and higher until the beast growls its command. Stop. It is not time yet.

Like a switch being flipped she exhales a long breath and those feral eyes brighten. Once more the cheshire smile replaces the downward turn of her snarling lips and she relaxes. ”Have you ever seen such a large tree as the Acacia trees? Not even the old swamp oaks or water birch can reach so high.” she remarks mildly, glancing up through the dappled sunlight at the broad branches spread out above them...