The silver haired witch has never cared for the companionship of those that she does not somehow control. Control was the equivalent of power, or so that was what she had learned both from her sire and from those that she dared to devote herself to. The old wolf often told her relying on others, on an implied trust, was a sign of weakness. For a long time, she did not dare to believe it, that is, until the day that Bjorn replaced her with the weak minded Siobhan. On that day, she promises to close up the remains of her shattered heart behind the thick tangle of thorns and ice and refuse to open it to any. So far, she kept that promise though she would never admit to the wolf he had been right.

Antares was an exception to that rule, at least that is what she told herself.

He had his people were a rare breed, a throwback to her mother’s people even if she had never known them. Watching them, even from a distance, Nyimara could not help but appreciate their loyalty and devotion to each other. Aside from occasional bouts of battle practice, and a single late night dance across the sands fueled by passion and desire, (of which she never tired of teasing Aldebaran about when given the opportunity), the mulberry gray stallion and his herd kept to themselves. Not once did any of them give any indication of intentions to thwart her supremacy over the Dunes and likewise she did not dare to interfere with their diplomacy except to silently observe from a distance. Their lineage was in her blood after all and curiosity only natural.

This day found her near the oasis where the gray stallion’s family spent their days. Normally, she would not have expected company, especially from Antares' mate. Though she was easily recognized enough by her graying coloration, she is definitely the last creature that Nyimara expected to join her. The silver haired queen has no doubt that her name has been passed between the lips of the pair when darkness allows them some solace of solitude and seclusion. Nyimara’s gaze might stray often, but she never missed a glare of suspicion and Sayyida had exuded it from their very first meeting. Of course Nyimara did not blame her, only a fool would take her words and masked smiles at face value. She had not gotten where she was in this life without getting her hooves dirty and she felt no remorse for those she tred across to get where she was.

Nostrils quiver in acknowledgment of the salt and pepper maned woman as Nyimara turns to fix the slender woman in her dark gaze. ’....it is rare to see you alone, Queen Nyimara.’ the gentle tones gain her a small smile as dark eyes blink acceptance and wait patiently for the “Mira” (that was what Antares had called her) to settle comfortably in her company. ”Yes…” she begins, pausing a moment before continuing, turning her gaze back towards the sea of sands that roll beyond the reaches of the oasis greenery. ”There was a time when I foolishly thought being a queen would mean freedom and a lack of responsibilities. A time when I just knew that leadership would mean an escape from politics and diplomacy.” the smile on her lips fades now and is replaced with something a bit more nostalgic and weary. ”Oh how I was wrong. But I could never step aside from the path that I now walk.” she sighs. No, Nyimara was not even sure she knew how to go back to being the carefree filly with her innocent eyes. What Bjorn had not shown her himself, the gods made sure to fill in those gaps.

Sayyida mentions her youngest daughter and the silver haired witch shifts her finely dished head ever so slightly to gaze once more at the mira. An amused chuckle escaped her lips as she gave her small head a toss to rid her vision of the straying strands of her silver white forelock.”Rhaynira is a spirited girl. She has a mind of her own.” she begins, pausing a moment as a coy grin plays across her lips and her long whipcord flicks lazily against her heels. ”The sooner Quinn figures that out the easier his life will become.” she finishes.

It is her turn now to pause the conversation, inclining her head towards the oasis of milling horses beyond them. ”I am surprised you ventured to approach me. I come here often when I wish for solitude and never once have you spared my direction more than a mere glance…” she begins, pausing a moment as a single brow arches curiously, ”What has changed?”