The damned sooty stallion’s claim on HER Dunes could not have come at a worse time. At any other point in her life, the silver-haired witch might have said ‘to hell’ with the ongoings of her family affairs and devoted the entirety of her being to regaining her fallen crown. However, the blood of the wolf ran deep in her veins and this… HIS death was a dagger to the heart that could not and would not be ignored. Solomon had done this… and by the gods, he would pay.
It was this reason and this reason alone that brought her onto the island of Tinuvel. It has been years now since she turned her back on the ice-covered homeland. A land she swore she would never again step foot onto. Dark eyes gaze up at the snow-covered peaks, reminiscing about the similarities between their color and the ice-blue color of Bjorn’s eyes. Again the dormant ache in her heart resurfaces. She hated Tinuvel, hated it for the memories that it brought back to life.
Rougaru The name whispered against her, tickling the fine hairs inside her ears. Bjorn’s voice. A hiss of anger steals from her lips as dark ears disappear beneath this thick tangle of her silver mane. Aggressively she shakes her head, shoving the memories of the white faced stallion away. She had come for a reason and strolling down memory lane was not one of them.She needs to assess Solomon’s herd. Rougaru had taken to battling the Tinuvel king time and time again but the old wolf never seemed to break through his defenses.
Why? She needed to know why. If she had any hope of overthrowing the painted stallion, Nyimara needed to find his weaknesses and exploit them. This is the reason why she does not immediately approach the Cove. Instead, the witch queen draws onto the quiet shores of the Bay. If all goes well, she could move under the cover of darkness and right under the nose of whatever guardian patrols the borders. She is cautious as she gingerly steps over the smooth pebbled shore and onto firmer ground. Paper thin nostrils flare as the mahogan mare sifts through the familiar scents of cedar and pine, attempting to distinguish the freshness of the scent marker. What she does not expect to find, is the familiar odor of Fell. Dark eyes alight with realization as a new plan formulates itself in her mind. She did not need to do this alone. Not now. If she could get the son of Rougaru to join with her… what better way to expose a weakness than to sidle up to the neighbor on his doorstep? Joy lightens her gait now, the first time since discovering the tattered remnants of her fallen sire. Dark ears prick forward as she nimbly follows a well trodden path away from the Bay and further into the heart of the herdland. A hard snort blasts past her nostrils as the silver witch no longer attempts to hide her presence but instead announce to the curly eared black stallion that his sister had finally come for a visit. Perhaps this time, it would go much better than the last.