Desert

Nyimara kept a careful watch as Solomon and his herd made their way to the shores. Dark eyes narrowed on each figure as they chased after the old stallion into the sea, making a mental tally of the numbers for future reference should that need ever arise. Only when the tops of their bobbing heads disappear over the rolling seas does she begin to relax. For the time being, she was determined to scrub clean every trace of Solomon’s claim on the deserts. A task that she herself needed to complete to begin to feel at ease.

Dark ears disappeared beneath the thick mantle of her silver-white mane as the mahogany woman followed each trail, scraping dirt and sand over what had once been strongly marked borders and replacing it instead with her own stamped hooves. Occasionally, she found a tree along the borders, recognizing the pale hairs of her enemy caught between the rough scales of the bark. A snort would escape her lips as the silver witch would lean into the hardwood and rake her body along its side to replace it with her own dark coat.

It took weeks of near-constant roaming before Nyimara started to feel more at home in her father’s land. Weeks of stomping away any reminder of Solomon’s presence and occasionally pausing to visit what remained still of the old wolf’s sun-bleached bones. Time was beginning to make its appearance, burying the scattered remains beneath the shifting dunes of sand. Washing away the old stallion’s memory from the islands to all except those who had known him.

It was not long after that Cahyr decided to make his appearance into the world.

Nyimara knew that at least throughout the remainder of her pregnancy she would not need to worry of Solomon’s attacks, especially now that he knew the child she carried was his kin. Regardless, she took precautions in the final weeks leading to the child’s arrival. Asmodeus had gladly taken to the authority she awarded him, patrolling the farthest reaches of the Desert in her stead and Nyimara felt certain (as much as she could anyway) that his diligence was to ensure the safe delivery of his foal.

Dark eyes sweep over his damp frame as she rises from the sandy earth where she had given birth. Exhaustion and pain give way to excitement and possibility as she gazes at the golden colt, stretching out his gangly bloodstained legs from the remains of his birthing sac. It does not take him long to understand the importance of gathering his feet beneath him and after a few stuttered attempts, he manages to rise and wobble unsteadily to her side. A purr rumbles from her lungs as he greedily tugs at her teets, suckling fiercely at the rich supply of milk her stay in Tinuvel had allowed her to provide. An almost tender smile curves its way across her ashen lips as the mare arches her neck to touch his hip before casting her gaze over the open fields beyond. A single whinny echoes above the cries of distant gulls and wrens gathered amid the stands of cactus. A single call for Asmodeus to come and meet his son. Their son. A twining of the bloodline of the wolf and ice king and somehow, Nyimara knew he would be greater than them all.