In the days since Fell’s appearance, Nyimara found herself busy scouring the hills and valleys of the Dunes in search of a suitable replacement for her daughter. Ever vigilant, she has come across quite a few prospective foals in the last few days, but none that immediately jump out to her as “the one”. So, as she had the day before, the silver haired witch merely makes a mental note of yet another dark colored foal as it suckled hungrily at its dozing mother’s side. The mahogany woman lets out an exasperated sigh and turns once more for the main oasis where she and Quinn planned to meet up to discuss potential candidates. However as she ambles at a languid pace across the peak of the Dune, movement in her peripheral vision draws her attention away from distant thoughts and to the present.

At first she thinks it to be the star speckled stallion and his fiery shadow mate. He had made it quite clear to her of the importance with which he relied on family and his desire to scour the Dunes for whatever remnants remained. While Fell’s recent visit had put a strain on this belief, Nyimara still managed to somewhat understand this desire and thus granted them the freedom to search… to an extent.

However as she turns her finely dished head to fix the silhouetted figure in her dark gaze, it is quickly clear that this is neither of the desert bred nomads. Fluted ears lift amid the tangled web of her silver white tresses as Nyimara stops to watch with refreshed interest. Sunlight soaks into the white peppered hips of the stranger as he moved. A stallion. The fact made all the more clear by the way he haunted the hoofprints she had left in the sand. A hard snort blasts from his lips and Nyimara pivots her heels to face his slowly approaching figure. She responds with an equally hard snort, her hot breath rising as proudly she lifts her head and coils her neck to press her ashen labrums against the concave of her breast. Were it not for the peak of breeding season, Nyimara might have imagined this stranger was after her crown. The whispered thought though causes her to close the gap between them with purposeful, jarring steps.

Long, silver white banner lifts high over her hips as she approaches him, circling to his left to give her better field position should he choose to become a threat. Paper thin nostrils flare as she drinks in his testosterone soaked scent, ”Lose your way?” she purrs, blinking up at him from beneath the thick veil of her pale lashes. She tilts her head just a touch, making the upward turn of her lips a bit more obvious as she continues. ”Or do you just like making a habit of trespassing?”