The first plunge into the cold and murky waters that surrounded Tinuvel had been hard. The hardest. It reminded her of just why most herds preferred to remain far inland when the first hints of winter began to fall over the island. The biting cold robbed the hair from her lungs and despite her determination, Nyimara gasped, forcing herself to breathe deeply enough to make her legs continue to churn the waters beneath her.
The travel is slow, slower still because of Rhaynira’s inexperience. Despite that, the young girl continued on, accepting the help from Nyimara begrudgingly until finally the movement of their bodies and rush of adrenaline offered them warmth. Nyimara opted to guide the herd to the main island first, let them recoup from the biting waters by traveling over land as much as possible. Only when necessary did she lead them back into the cold waters to cover the last leg of their journey to the desert of Salem.When her hooves touch down on the malleable sands in the shallows surrounding Salem, the silver-haired woman cannot help but to release a contented sigh. She was home. It might not be the Dunes, but Salem was in her blood. Salem was where she thrived. Once more she would take root and grow into the powerful force that caused the world to quiver and quake.Lifting her head proudly, the lithe woman prances from the shallows, sending sprays of water scattering out of her way. Water-logged tail lifts high, like a great banner. She does not wait for Solomon to greet her as protocol might have once advised her, but instead seeks him out. Near black eyes narrow against the bright sun. It was good to be home.Solomon was not hard to find, his white splotched body stood out against the red and gold colors of the desert terrain. Satisfaction wells in her at the sight of him, at the ribbiness of his frame, and the dejected demeanor that seems to have chained him to his prison. A smug grin spreads across her whiskered lips as she shoos Rhaynira away and prances towards him, her swollen belly swinging like a pendulum beneath her.
”So, the desert has not broken you yet. That is good to see.” The words fall from her lips smoothly as she closes the space between them. Proudly she gives her head a toss, tilting her muzzle towards the direction of the sea and Tinuvel that lay far beyond their line of sight.
”As promised, you are free to return to the Cove…” she purrs, pausing a moment as a sinister smile curls across her lips.
”Though you may find it far different from the Tinuvel you once knew.” she says, a light chuckle leaving her lips. A single forelimb stretches forward to rake at the hard, compact earth beneath her feet.
”But I would hope that OUR child’s grandsire…” she murmurs, her venom-laced tones quiet as she glances briefly back to Asmodeus before fixing Solomon in her knowing gaze,
”will not find change to be too difficult to manage.” she finishes, her long tail snapping meaningfully against her sides. The chocolate-colored mare glances past the displaced king, her dark eyes scanning the minging herd that had apparently decided to join their king in his suffering.
”I had hoped to see Xiomara with you. Has she left you too?” she inquires, a single arched brow raised in question. The mask of concerned curiosity on her face is feigned, of that even Solomon would know. She wanted to jab the knife in deeper to the wound, not just to prick the skin over and over again. However, there is an air of true curiosity to her words. She did want to talk to the once queen. The warrior queen. The pale stallion had mentioned the skull-faced mare and despite having a new name to add to her list of enemies, Nyimara could not help but wonder what alliance he had with her. It would be entertaining indeed if curiosity led to the information she might exploit on behalf of either party....