Sweat glistens from her mahogany hide as the lithe mare takes a step back with a cheshire grin planted firmly on her lips. Breathless, she exhales a sharp snort, giving her finely dished head a toss to rid her vision of her silver white forelock. Brows knit together for a moment as she studies the dust covered stallion opposite of her. Like her, he was covered in a thin layer of sweat and breathing just as heavily. A chuckle rumbles deep within her breast, growing with intensity until it is built of the purest amusement. Dark eyes glitter in the bright sunlight as she gives her body a quick shake, dislodging as much of the sand from her skin as she could manage. A nice long soak in the oasis later would clear the rest but for now, it was a good way to calm the battlelust blood that coursed through her veins.

A mischievous smirk tugs the corners of her ashen lips upward as the silver haired witch tilts her crown towards her counterpart. ”If I’d only known how seriously you take on all aspects of battle then perhaps it should have been you I invited into my bed instead of your brother.” she teases, her long silvery tail flicking playfully in his direction. Though she had not found much need for battle in the last few months, Antares had met her often on the rolling hills of the sandy Dunes to chase away any remnants of childbirth and weakness from her skin. Where once she had grown fat with child, now has been replaced by lean muscle. Though she mostly kept company with her chosen king, from time to time, the mahogany woman sought out the leader of the nomad people who resided within her realms to share stories and exchange blows. It had been his idea from the beginning and while a small voice within her had initially rejected the idea, she found herself now looking forward to these meetings of body and mind. He was not nearly as pompous and strange as she first believed him to be.

Arching her neck, Nyimara cast her muzzle over a scratch left by his jagged hooves. Lucky for her, it had missed the small bones in her knee and thus would not cause her to limp for days on end as it healed. It stung like the flesh striping fire ants right now, and bled initially like she had been sliced to the bone. However already the flow had begun to ebb away and a thin layer of scab was already beginning to form in it’s place. She glances back up at the red haired sheikh, ”So you have had no sighting of the black stallion so far? I expected him to return much sooner than now.” she inquires, the last words meant more for herself than for Antares. Why Fell’s eminent threat plagued her so much, she is not quite sure. Was it because he had come so unbidden? So unexpectedly? She could not rightly say. Even the veiled threat of Evrain and Rafe does not worry her nearly as much as the mute black stallion of Tinuvel.