Cahyr was growing quickly into a fine colt, the perfect combination of his superior lineage. Though he was prone to outbursts of anger and frustration, especially when things did not exactly go the way he planned, Nyimara would have expected nothing less from her hot-headed bloodline. She had never been known for her ability to roll with the punches, afterall.
He was old enough now that Nyimara felt more secure with allowing him the freedom to roam about the desert as he saw fit, as long as she or Asmodeus remained within earshot of course. Diligent though they may be, there were still unforeseen dangers that even the bravest of colt’s could not escape from without parental assistance.
Today the chocolate colored mare found herself wandering towards the large oasis that bordered her lands from the Dunes. There had been a time not so very long ago, that she had approached this place from the opposite side, where she had been queen over the Dunes and the old wolf, lord of the Desert. That had been lovely times indeed, but those were long gone now thanks to Solomon. Rougaru was gone and last she heard, it was Antares and his strange collective of families that had taken her place.
However the voice that rose to greet her wandering mind now is not one she is entirely familiar with. Twin flutes pitch forward amid the mass of silver white tresses as the lithe mare quickens her pace to something more akin to a lazy jog. She pauses a moment as she crests a rising hillock, her near-black ooids scanning the familiar landscape with careful scrutiny until those eeys fall upon a flaxen haired stallion.
She might have mistaken him for a mere piece of the landscape, so well does his russset color blend into the red and browns of the Dunes. She might have missed him, were it not for the obvious anticipation and shifting of position. He was waiting.
A coy smiles curves its way across her ash dusted labrums as Nyimara trilled her own melodious reply. Slender legs propel her forward at an easy gait, navigating around and through the dense brown shrubs. ”I thought Antares still remained in the Dunes…” she begins, when she is close enough that her words can be easily heard. Finely dished muzzle tilts left and then right as she studies the stallion curiously. ”But I take it he has again moved on?” she purrs, her silver white tail flicking idly against her supple hips.