Near-black eyes scan the snow-dusted fields and looming forests as patiently she waits for the Inlet leader’s approach. Keen eyes catch a familiar sight in the rugged, burly stallion flitting easily among the trees. Absently she issues a greeting to Loupgaru, the would-have-been heir to her own father’s throne. Recognition causes the beast to pause, confirming her judgment and assuring her that Tinuvel is not just filled with ghosts of her own past. The painted stallion rumbles a recognition of his own but disappears into the forest instead of approaching. Ill-mannered beast as always. She fumes to herself as her hoof stomps onto the icy ground.
Were it not for the sudden appearance of the painted mare, Nyimara might have tried to follow in her brother’s wake, seek him out to add him to the artillery in her arsenal for revenge. Surely as the old wolf’s son, he would seek vengeance for their father? After all, the others seemed to be on board with her plans. But for now, he would have to wait for another time. Urgency at hand and all.Fluted ears dip backward and then forward again as the cautious mare halts before her with suspicious eyes. A mask of neighborly friendship carves itself into place on her delicately sculpted features as Nyimara nods her head.
”I am indeed. And you are my neighbor though I do not believe we have had the pleasure of meeting before.” she purrs with honey-sweetened words. She glances towards the woodline that hid Loupgaru’s retreating form.
”Though perhaps I should have come sooner if it meant I might reconnect with my darling little brother… but maybe another time.” Business first, games later...