The silver haired mare would be lying if she said she was not completely disappointed that the sight of her pregnant belly did cause the handsome brindle stallion to press his lips in jealousy. In fact, she would have greatly loved to see that look of longing on his face. However, she did at least manage to catch his gaze lingering over the obvious swell. That would have to do. The grin look on his face told her that he had important matters on his mind and clearly had been waiting for her for a reason. He murmurs her name, the familiar husky gravel of his voice stirring to life memories of their past passions. His warm breath ripples across her lips and she returns it with a slow and heavy exhale of her own. A coquettish smile tugs at the corners of her lips as his compliment, causing the witch queen to arch her neck even higher, ”Did you really expect anything less?” she purrs, her long tail switching against the curve of her hip at the playful banter.

The laugh that her comment draws from his lungs is intoxicating. Dark eyes glitter in amusement as her own breast swells proudly at his compliment. She was unforgettable. There was no arguing that. Pale lashes blink slowly as she nips at his whiskered muzzle appreciatively before withdrawing to give her finely dished head a shake, ridding her visionfield of the troublesome veil. It was time to get down to business. He was here for a reason and it was long past due time to find out why. He had become a sort of silent partner for a long time now, something that Nyimara appreciated but wondered exactly why that was. Usually, allies were all too eager to be popping their heads up over the border in an effort to fish out information that might prove beneficial to them. In as long as she has known him, Rafe has been the exception. Where Marceline seemed to find no problem with popping up on her doorstep from time to time for a nice little chat, the brindle stallion did not. Whatever has transpired must surely be troublesome if it sent him here himself.

The mention of Marceline’s newest boy toy seemed to have hit quite the sore spot on Rafe. Instantly, Nyimara recognizes the change in his demeanor and responds with a mere flick of her ear. Interesting.

He claims to have no care or concern for the newly minted king of the hills and yet the tone of his voice screams a hundred words he does not mention. He might tell himself he did not care but everything else about him said he did. A knowing gleam dances in her dark eyes as she presses her ashen lips together in a firm line, preventing the impish grin from making its way across her telltale face. However the words he has chosen to explain Marceline as of late does cause her brows to furrow in confusion. Inconsistent? Fickle? The red queen? Marceline might not have been a queen nearly as long as herself but from what Nyimara has seen over the years, she has been far from inconsistent. ”Are we discussing the same Queen of the Hills there Rafe? Inconsistent? Fickle?...” she draws, pausing a moment to shift the weight of her body from one hind let to another to regain some semblance of comfort. They were going to be here awhile. ”What could Marceline have possibly done to warrant such words from her Badlands lover? Besides replacing you with a younger version” Even though she knew that last little bit was unfounded and hardly truthful , still she could hardly restrain herself. Seeing the handsome brindle stallion all worked up was sexy and probably the most entertainment she has had in weeks.

’Cato is well.’ This brings about a sudden peaking of her interest. She has not seen her handsome overo son in months and hearing that Rafe has seen him and even more that the chestnut colt made his way to the Badlands is news to her. Good news. Nyimara has never hidden from Cato his heritage and only assumed that Rafe would always welcome the boy into his herd if the red and white colt ever made his mind up to venture in that direction. Knowing that was exactly what he had done was a relief to the mother in her and a carefully placed pawn to the queen.

The silver haired woman nods silently at Rafe’s words and instead allows him to change the subject once more to the apparent reason for his visit today. A single mahogany lobe twitches as Rafe explains what has caused him to have such a vendetta against his ally. For the few moments before he continues, Nyimara remains silent, sifting through the proverbial pile of information dumped at her hooves and carefully tucking away tidbits of information for later use. Rafe had kin? That was news to her. She had always assumed he was like many of the other nomad strangers who washed up on these shores without family or connections except for those cemented themselves. Grant it their relationship has never warranted for pillow talks into the long nights but well, she would take what she got.

As Rafe goes on he explains that he plans for a change to take effect in the Hills, and for that change to be in the form of his son, Nyimara finds the first twinge of jealousy beginning to rear its ugly head. With great restraint, she holds tight the sneer that threatens to turn the corners of her lips and instead presses her ashen labrums together tightly. Dark ears tilt back amid the wind-swept tangle of her mane. Rafe was treading on dangerous ground now. ”What of OUR son?” she murmurs, biting back the venom that threatens to wrap itself tightly around her words. ”Surely you MUST have a grand plan of things for him too if you are wanting to put the bastard of Marceline’s on the throne in her place.” she purrs, her tail cracking audibly against her hip. She cocks her head towards him, dark eyes glittering furiously. ”Maybe it is not Marceline who is fickle but you…” she breathes, pausing a moment to let her words settle over the bindle stallion before continuing on in emotionless tones. ”Stealing is part of our nature. Kin… stranger… does it really matter in the end? Of course I do not condone Isik’s behavior but neither am I against it. He did no different then what either of us would have done.” she states calmly. ”What makes you think the boy will do it? You are talking of dethroning his mother after all.” she asks, her steely gaze fixed upon his own pale eyes once more.