There has been no shortage of visitors treading along the borders these days. Apparently, Asmodeus had not been as lonesome in her absence as she made herself believe.

Despite the influx of attention that the Desert was receiving as of late, (and her lack of authority as the chimera was so quick to remind her), Nyimara still found herself patrolling the borders if only to clear her mind and focus on the plans she was setting into place. Like the sticky strands of a spider’s silk, the chocolate mare let her mind untangle the web one single strand at a time. Asmodeus wanted her to ally with the Dunes and/or the Hills. It would be an impossible task given her history with Evrain. The animosity between them ran much too deep for either to be willing to set aside pride for the good of the islands. In honesty, Asmodeus had a much better chance at gaining the blue stallion’s backing and Nyimara would be sure to try and pull the strings in that direction when the time came.

No, for now, her focus would be on securing the allegiance of the Dunes. Helios was far more reasonable to deal with, at least from what she could remember.

But with her absence from the Desert, also came a new set of problems. Though Asmodeus had purposefully ignored the silver-haired boy so far, Nyimara would not put it past the chimera beast to allow something to happen to Swyk, even if he didn’t necessarily cause it himself. One child lost early in life was enough pain for her heart to bear. No, before she leaves for her diplomatic mission to the Dunes, Swyk needs to go. That itself was painful enough to imagine but at least she had an idea of what to do with the boy.

The idea of sending the energetic colt off was far more difficult to handle than she originally imagined it would be. A pain that even her twisted heart could not wrap itself around without threatening to tear her plan asunder before it was even put into place. So she walks, using the guise of patrol as an excuse. All she needed was one enemy, one unexpected and uninvited guest to cross her pathways to let fury, frustration, and chaos free.

The first thing to catch the desert witch’s ears is a high-pitched squeal.

Immediately all thoughts and plans fall from the forefront of her thoughts as the exotic mare lifts her finely dished face towards the arid zephyrs. Twin flutes flicker atop her skullcap as dark eyes scan the vast terrain of rock and brush before her in hopes of pinpointing the direction of the voice. However, despite even her experienced ears, the sun-baked earth only resonates with the voice, distorting and carrying it like a swirling vortex around and around. A taunt of the desert itself. As though the very gods dangled the temptation of release before her only to place an obstacle in her path. Frustration fuels the fury that coils tightly around taunt muscles as the chocolate mare picks up a hurried trot in the general direction she believes the voices originate from.

As she rounds a rocky outcropping, the beat of her heart stutters.

Jagged, chipped hooves bring her to a sudden halt, dust churning and floating across the path ahead. The path and the fallen figure that she would never be able to forget.

Shenzi.

Oh, how the gods truly loved to toy with the witch woman these days. First Bjorn and now Shenzi. The two creatures on this living earth, able to burrow deep into the crevices of her soul and chip away pieces of what was good and golden that could still be found there. Shenzi… her blood sister... Her lover… her… everything. At least she had been… once.

The last time she had seen the woman had been many, many seasons ago. Even now the russet mare is just as Nyimara remembered her, fierce, hard…. But tired.

Shenzi had turned her back on Nyimara then, words that broke the dam between them had been ladened with fury and hurt. Dark ears fall backward as the memory of their meeting in the Falls resurfaces once more.

A blast of hot breath exhales from flared nostrils as Nyimara slowly closes the gap of space between herself and the bent woman, her near-black eyes veiled beneath the lacey tendrils of her flowing forelock. Despite the churning emotions within her, the witch queen schools her features. The only sign of acknowledgment of their shared history showed in the smug smirk that tugged at the charcoal corners of her lips. .. ”I told you before you were weak.” she says, her words void of the bitterness that still tugs at her heart as she faces the dark mare.

For a moment, it is only those words that leave her lips, a statement rather than anything else. But even in her apparent heartlessness, Nyimara would not allow Shenzi to draw her last breath, not here… not now. Long, sleek neck dips lower as she snakes forward, circling to the mare’s battle-scarred side. ”Get up! Get up and prove me wrong.” she snarls.