With such a large number of nomads popping up on Salem as though the floodgates had opened anew from the mainland, Nyimara finds herself spending less time mothering Rhaenys and more time patrolling her kingdom. She might have minded the nuisance more were it not for the reliability of Quinn. The handsome sooty black stallion was proving more and more each day to be a fitting choice for her partner in the reigning of the Dunes. Without discussion, the dark dragga took up the duty of protecting her spirited princess from whatever troubles might arise. Rhaenys was one child that the bitch Faolain would not easily dispatch with Quinn watching.

Today, like many days before it, the silver haired witch stands atop the Dunes, watching silently as Rhaenys frolics through the stiff sawgrasses, her small head barely visible above the ends of the tall fronds. An amused smile tugs across the mahogany witch’s dark lips as the distant memories awaken in her the memories of her own childhood when she too had flitted about without a care beyond the moment. How distant those times seemed today. A part of her missed those times; missed the moments when she had been able to galavant over the hills and valleys at her own sire’s side. She missed the closeness of their bond in the days after her mother’s death and the wide-eyed wonder with which she listened intently to his wise words. She even missed the early seasons with Bjorn, when he too had raced carefree at her side along the expansive shores of Atlantis. And yet regardless of how easily the memories arise, no longer can she feel the same winds or recall the scents of flowers and trees that had once then been so fresh. She feels instead like an outsider looking in, watching the memories as a stranger from afar than the creature who had actually taken part in the moments. It seemed odd really, to no longer feel the same yearnings and yet miss them all the same.

The resounding call of a stranger carries over the billowing zephyrs, causing the mahogany woman to snap from her thoughts. Dark eyes narrow in suspicion as immediately her lithe limbs are in motion, pivoting her gracefully away from her dark lover and daughter. Paper thin nostrils flare as the silver haired woman quickens her pace, savoring the feel of the wind’s invisible fingers coiling about her in a lover’s embrace. Sleek serpentine arches, pressing her small muzzle into the concave of her breast. Long, silver white tail lifts high above her voluptuous hips like the great banner, announcing to the world the monarch’s approach. Salem made her feel powerful. The Dunes made her feel important. Despite the less than stellar track record she had for monarchy, now… here… Nyimara felt invincible. Soon. Soon she would reawaken the dragon. Soon she would let the beast rise and face the ice king Solomon. For now, there were more pressing matters.

The stranger is not easy to miss. His rose colored body is a stark contrast to the gold and tan hues of the desert sands surrounding him. For a moment she halts her progress, lifting her chiseled head her near black eyes regard him, taking advantage of the distance between them to let her piercing gaze roam over his form. Deserbred, clearly another of the missing tribe that Atair had mentioned to her. Their ways still seemed almost alien to her but at least she could respect such devotion to family. The tension that had built up in her bones began to ebb away. Thoughts of Fell’s early return becoming something of a distant thought instead of reality. It seemed the black dog did understand her after all. Unlike with Atair, the crimson haired nomad has at least heard of her, or so it would seem. Small ears perk forward amid the curling tendrils of her silver white mane as the sound of her name falls from his graveled tongue. ’Queen of the Dunes had such a nice ring to it’ of that she and the beast are in agreement.

Pale lashes blink slowly over dark eyes as she descends the hillside, a mischievous smirk sliding across her ashen labrums. ”Good to finally see someone respecting boundaries.” she purrs, her own lilted tones light. She comes to a halt before him, dipping her proud head ever so slightly in acknowledgement. ”But it seems I am still at a disadvantage, stranger…” she continues, the smile curling wider across her lips, her dark eyes dancing. ”You know my name and title but here I am knowing nothing of you.” she finishes as an almost playful chuckle bubbles within her lungs. Long tail flicks idly against her hip as she cocks a single dark hoof against the hard ground underfoot. ”Speak.”