There was something intoxicating about the silver-haired stallion that the lavender girl could not quite put her hoof on. Maybe it was the intensity of his pale gaze, the coldness and cunning that lay plain behind them that drove her to reach out her lips for a taste. Perhaps it was the power that rippled beneath the well-defined muscles of his frosted, chocolate frame. He was an impressive creature, far taller and more muscular than even her own seasoned sire. Any mare would be a fool if they did not feel equal measures of intrigue and caution when in his company. It was what drove her to seek him out again and again despite the aloof, nonchalant manner in which he treated her.
Icy blue eyes scan the dense brush, unused to the thickness of the shrubbery. A polar difference to the wide open and sparse patches of brush that made up the Hills' topography. She had known that the main island would be far different from the desert landscape she was used to but nothing had prepared her for the vastness of difference she had encountered. From the rocky, sandy soil of the mountain peaks to the lush greenery of the meadows and commons, the main island supported many different terrains but nothing quite like the deserts of Salem.
For the first time, something akin to longing tugged at her mind. Had her parents realized she was gone? Surely Father would know by now. Erayna was quite well known for tattling and she had little doubt that her absence had not gone missed for long. Did Erayna miss her? Despite their constant competitiveness as foals, her twin had always been a constant figure in her life, closer even than her own parents. Part of her never imagined a life without her sister at her side. Yet here she stood, far from Erayna and only now recognizing the absence of her twin. Flutes tilt backward as charcoal lips press in a firm line, fighting away the haze of memories’ forgetfulness. She might have allowed herself to slip further into the memories, might have even thought twice now about her decision to come back to the Lagoon to seek an answer from her ‘bad boy’ crush. She might even have turned back for the Hills if only to refresh her memories of Erayna and her family… were it not for the sudden disruption.
One thing that Druna has learned about the lagoon is that it was much harder to move through the brush without making noise. Most herla shuffled their hooves and even the squirrels caused leaf litter to crinkle as they moved from one stand of trees to another in search of forage to add to their winter’s collection. But even the rooting hogs that roamed in loose family units through the island could not make the amount of noise that thundered closer. Twin flutes flicker atop her crown, caught between the warring emotions within her. Part of her, the part that caused her finely dished muzzle to lift defiantly, wanted to meet the approaching unknown with fight. A smaller, quieter voice felt a tinge of what could only be described as… fear. Despite Garmr’s reassurances, still she remembered the nightmarish stories mother used to tell her of the lagoon stallions and the wolves that prowled these lands. It is no surprise that those thoughts did not come crashing back to the forefront of her mind, causing the lithe muscles beneath her slender frame to tense at the ready.
She had hoped that we words would draw him out of hiding, but Druna was not at all prepared for the hessian that burst forth from the curtain of Spanish moss and stiff brush palms.
Garmr.
Once more, she finds herself entranced by the power and might that resonates from the beast as he charges towards her with ears bent backward and ice dancing in his blue-green eyes. Garmr… his name echoes in her mind as relief and excitement quicken the pace of her heartbeat.
There is no suave gentleness in his muscular frame as he closes the distance between them at a quick pace, making no show of halting. Anger and frustration dances behind her own silver-blue eyes as Druna pivots her heels, allowing her shoulder to take the brunt of his apparent attack. As if he were punishing her for some transgression! How dare he!
The relief and excitement do not dissipate as the anger and frustration resurfaces within her. His blunt teeth grasp at her withers, scraping against the sensitive flesh and sending an icy shiver coursing through her veins. Indignation erupts from her lungs in the form of a wordless squeal. Instinctively she clamps her alabaster tail against her lavender rump as she offers him a half-hearted cow-kick in warning. She was the one who should be angry here. ’I’m done playing games….’ The words echo in the small space that separates their bodies, his broad form shoving and pushing against her more petite figure, fueling the embers that burned within her. Games? This had all been games in his eyes?!? Her attraction? The desire for his companionship.. The flutter that thrums strong within her heart even now at the roughness of his touch. His claim. ”Games?!?” she snarls, her words far more feral than the usual feminine coquettish tone that graced her tongue. Sparks dance behind her glittering eyes as her long serpentine coils, allowing ashen lips to snake towards him and leave her own angry bites upon his scraped shoulder and ribs. ”This has all been a game to you?!?!” she growls, pressing her hip back against the force of his powerful frame. Striped hooves slide in the rich, black earth underfoot. Druna is not foolish enough to think she has even the slightest hope of causing the great beast to stumble or stutter his steps. However, that will not stop her from trying. Not this time. Lavender ears disappear beneath the thick silken tendrils of her alabaster mane. ”You LEFT ME! AGAIN!” she snaps. Paper-thin nostrils flare as the exotic woman drinks in the masculine scent of the silver-haired brute, her splotched frame sleek with sweat for exertion that she was not accustomed to.
Stubborn and prideful were two of her most obvious downfalls and that was no more obvious than in this moment. Any other mare might have shrugged off his meeting and chalked it up to a childhood crush, drawing up the memories when times grew bleak. Not Druna. She chose her fate and even if he tossed her away, she would continue to come back for more. ”You are the one who keeps playing games Garmr. Not me.” she finishes, butting her head roughly against his ribs, relishing in the heat of his solid frame pressed tightly against her own.
DRUNA
lavender daughter of Evrain and Warduna