It has been a long and hard journey but already Nyimara can feel the winds of change upon her. Pale, silver white tendrils lift from their place against her mahogany neck, twisting and turning to the tune of the zephyr song. Dark, near black ooids cast a roaming gaze over the horizon, admiring the change in the Dunes. The coming of Antares and his family has brought with it great numbers of horses near and far. Each morning, a new scent or face appeared near the upper oasis where the stallion diligently collected his followers. Their ways were still strange to her, foreign and yet somewhere deep down, familiar. It has been years since her mother’s death and though she knew very little of the midnight mare, still she can hear the rhythm of her voice each time she passed by the brothers and their so-called wives. It made the ache all the more real for her own missing children.

Bjorn had always been far closer to Sigurdr than she had ever been given the chance to be. The war of her father took her from the shores of Atlantis not long after he had been weaned. It should not have surprised her really that he would take to the gentle Siobhan and yet, returning home, the sight of the happy little family had infuriated her. Fueled by a war that was neither won or lost, Nyimara took her fury out on the red mare, painting a target upon her shoulders for the wrongs that had been dealt her way. She had hoped that her return and fight for domination would prove her worth to the stallion she had tied her life to. Yet regardless how hard she tried, how viciously she battled and how wholeheartedly she strived for her goals of domination, nothing seemed to turn the bear king’s gaze away from Siobhan and Tigerlilly. If anything, her ambitions had done nothing but ruin any chances she ever had at piecing together the happy little family she had pictured in her mind. Skogsra was off gods only know where, no doubt following like an excited puppy, after Bjorn and Sigurdr. Raksha, well… Raksha made it plain the day she fled from the Hills that she wanted nothing to do with the lifestyle Nyimara envisioned for her children. At least Warduna made a point of checking in on occasion and thankfully there were no little children in tow. Of all her children, Warduna seemed like the least likely to ever submit to the mundane existence of motherhood. The girl simply had no interest in foals or the necessary actions to create them. At least that was how she had been the last time the pale faced mare ghosted into the Dunes and then out again. Uhtred had long since left her side as she only expected her son to do, the colt now young stallion had been all too eager to learn of his sire from their last interaction and she had pointedly told him if he was so damn interested he should just go find him himself. Apparently the silver grullo took that to heart.

Rhaenys is her saving grace. Though it had taken two to create her, Nyimara was more than happy to keep the Hills king away from their shared daughter and instead tighten the bonds of Quinn’s relationship with her, as much as necessary anyway. She preferred to keep a rather hands on approach when it came to her children and Rhaenys was no different. The fact that the silver haired princess liked to eavesdrop on private meetings was only an added bonus. Nyimara did her best to keep an eye out for those listening ears and dark searching eyes but at this point, there was not much she could do about it. One day Rhaenys would take her place as the queen and by the gods Nyimara was determined to see her succeed without the same failures that she herself had faced.

But watching as Antares’ group gathered, watching as the long lost family reunited together, it returned the long buried ache. That was all she had wanted for herself. Love. Devotion. The same wholehearted obedience that was shown in the eyes of the stallions and mares as they gazed upon one another for the first time in awhile. Was that too much to ask for? At least with Quinn, Nyimara felt some semblance of these emotions. Love might be a strong word to use but adoration was clear in the way his blue eyes lusted after her slender figure and the same hunger spiked each time he drew near with the rouge grin across his lips. What they had might not be the same as what she had once (and still felt if she were being honest though she would die before admitting it) felt towards Bjorn, she was happy. As was evident by the now gentle swelling of her belly. Silently, deep in her own thoughts, Nyimara watched the growing numbers until the growing darkness covered them in shadows. She had questions, curiosities really that stemmed from her own heritage but more than anything, she was curious to see if the bloodmarked stallion would keep his word.

Dawn’s approach brought with it the silver haired witch in motion. Starless nights drove her to her hooves early in the mornings and last night was no different. Though her belly had not begun to fully distend yet, Nyimara still felt the added weight as she danced through the Dunes of sand and raced the flocking gulls over the shallow shores. The bright sun had not yet begun to fully envelop the beach in its fierce rays and despite the arid climate, the ocean water felt cool on a morning such at this, as it splashed up across her back and withers, darkening her mahogany coat in strange splotches of black.Though she was intent that the stallion keep his promise, she was surprised when his red hair tops the ridge ahead of the large family unit.

Nyimara slows to a prancing halt, her long sleek serpentine arching elegantly as she lifts her proud head high and cast a roaming gaze over the unfamiliar faces that spill over the edge of the dunes and onto the beach before her like ants from a disturbed hill. ’even ants bite if you are not careful and watch your hooves.’ the beast growls, its feral eyes glittering in the recesses of her mind. It is right. Though Antares has been nothing but polite and willing to abide by her wishes if only to give his people back a piece of their home, still… There is always a chance that one day, the land she had given them might not be enough to keep them content and like the ants, they would begin to swell the banks and seek more and more.

Yet as Antares approaches her with a gentle smile on his lips and the respectful incline of his head, Nyimara pushes away these thoughts for another time when she is alone with her own thoughts. One by one the other two brothers speak up, and each earns a slight dip of her own dished muzzle in acknowledgement. Atair she had met, though their initial meeting had been far from stellar. It was good to see that he no longer looked like a carcass the sea spit from her breast and more like the handsome stallion he was. For a moment, she lets her gaze linger on Eness, a single lobe tilting as a ghostly smile tugs itself at the corners of her lips. The spirited mare had earned her respect that day on the beach when she had fearlessly approached in defense of her mate. The silent mare beside Antares remains as before, a silent observer and though curious, Nyimara does not let her gaze linger long. Instead she turns to the stallion of black and white haze as he dips his head in introduction. Rigel. She had not met him before. Politely she cranes her own neck down before turning to catch Antares’ last statement. Another brother? Oh, he had said something about 3 brothers besides himself. An almost gentle mask slides into place upon her face as the friendly smile broadens across her ash dusted lips. ”I was beginning to think you might have forgotten me…” she breathes, dipping her head respectfully towards Antares once more, ”I am glad to see you are indeed a stallion who keeps his word.” Now, her glance drifts over the faces behind him. Roams over the faces gathering around them. There were many. ”I hope it was not too much trouble for you; I simply wanted to meet the faces of those who now share our home” She is careful to leave just the right amount of emphasis on this single word before continuing on. ”As I am sure you know already, my name is Nyimara, queen of the Dunes herd.” she purrs, her unusually long silver white tail switching idly against her hips as she pauses again, this time turning her gaze back to Antares as the speaker of this group. ”I trust the eastern dunes are suitable enough? Will it support such a large gathering without too much damage?” this time, the strategist comes out as she thinks about the future and the health of the land. It would do her no good if the eastern oasis dried up or the sparse grasses disappeared due to overgrazing. Though it has not happened on the islands that she is aware of, she remembers passing through a desolate land void of anything beyond cracked earth and carcasses picked clean by vultures. ”If you need more room, I am sure we can come to an agreement. I would rather not be forced to play chase with the death birds.” she adds with a light chuckle.