Warduna had no idea why it was that she felt the need to return to her mother and yet in those few months since her encounter with the dunalino stallion, the silver bay mare found her footsteps once more crossing the borders of her mother’s territory. She was asking for a verbal assault, that much she is sure. Though Nyimara has loved her as fiercely as any mother could, even Warduna is not oblivious to the rather stiff hand that the witch queen took when it came to delegating her wishes to her offspring. Nyimara prided Warduna in her plain disgust at the idea of procreation and yet here she was, nurturing the very parasite she despised with no way of dislodging it.



Were it a flea or a tick, a nice long soak in the mud might cure the annoyance. A stomach ache? That was easily resolved with a mouthful of thyme or a couple good scrapings of ginger root if the pain demanded she dig them up. Pregnancy? Well, she has not heard of anything to resolve that problem.



’Damn him’ silently she curses the beast that she had lost herself to. Silently she wishes a thousand mosquitos to puncture his skin and leave him with as many itches that cannot be scratched as possible. At least then he might begin to feel the annoyance she now felt as the days wore on and the fluttering within her continued to grow. ’And the bastard didn't even bother to stick around!’ she huffs to herself, kicking an offending stone from her path. Of course that was not entirely true, but well, it made her feel better. She had been just as eager to be rid of his company as no doubt he was of her. Adrenaline and sex drive spent, there was not much fun to be had in the other’s company and quietly slipping away was much easier than an awkward exit.


She watches as the clump of dirt skitters across the dirt, sending up a plume of dust in its wake. Only when it ricochets off the bark of a nearby tree does she notice the painted stallion she almost hit. She ought to feel at least some semblance of guilt, ought to offer an apology for almost knocking him in the muzzle. Yet somehow, the embarrassment and the guilt manages to manifest itself with the change in her raging hormones. Irritation turns her mahogany ears backwards as her piercing blue eyes glare daggers into the dark eyes of the stranger. An annoyed snarl turns the corners of her lips downwards as the pale faced mare stomps her hoof at him in warning. ”Can’t you see I’m walking here?! Find somewhere else to be!” she snaps. Of course she has no such authority and no real reason to demand that of him. Hell even she knows she is being bitchy but somehow being a witch towards somehow else makes her feel better about the tongue lashing she is sure will come with Nyimara discovers she has returned home.

WARDUNA

If I had a heart, I could love you;