The dark-haired filly was furious. Who exactly she was most angry with she could not rightly determine. She was angry at her mother. Khar'pern should have known better than to provoke the Lagoon stallions, especially so close to the changing of the seasons. Hell, if she were being completely honest, she was furious at mother for losing. The rose-gray mare spent day in and day out training her to be cautious, to watch her back and be prepared for attacks and how to defend and yet she somehow managed to come away the captive. She was angry that Khar'pern refused to allow her to remain at her mother's side and help keep the rosy mare's back protected. She was angry at Snapdragon for losing the battle against Khyber even though mother had spoken on more than one occasion of how skilled a fighter her sire was. She was angry at the mother mountain for the bitter cold that already turned her breath to smoke with each exhale of her lungs. She was angry at Marceline for not being able to get mother back even if it had not been the spotted mare's fault. She was even mad at herself for lacking the will to defy her fierce mother and stubbornly follow her parents back to the Lagoon. Matter of fact, she was furious at this last point. As much as she wanted to protect her mother from the horror stories she has been told of the pitiful condition the trickets of the lagoon are kept, she should have been brave enough to defy her mother's command to remain behind in the relative safety of the peaks.
But she hadn't.No. Like the good little girl she stayed behind, watching with longing and pain as Khar'pern disappeared into the dense forest.For a time, the russet girl remained where she was, hoping through hope, that the fierce little Arab mare would somehow fight off her captivity and return to her through whatever means necessary. Hell she even hoped that Khyber would prove to be more than a sperm donor and show genuine concern at the fact his child had been left alone. She hoped even he would free mother and send her home.But she was wrong.Khar'pern did not return that night, nor in the nights to follow. It was after three days that Ryvar was forced to acknowledge the truth. Khar'pern would not return anytime soon. So today finds her in much the same mood as she has been for the last few weeks. Angry and alone. Red-bown ears bury themselves beneath the lengthening ends of her obsidian mane as the slender girl kicks loose a stone with her chipped hooves. Storm-gray eyes follow the rock as it tumbles end over end down the edge of the mountainside, clinking against other rocks and spraying pebbles and dirt with it until all of it disappears over the edge of a cliffside. She is alone, moreso now than ever before. The other mares of the peak do not try to seek her out to offer comfort or encouragement, if anything, the only thing Ryvar recognize in their gaze is sympathy when they pass wordlessly by. It is an infection to an already festering wound.The rustle of dry grass nearby alerts the small girl to an approaching soul. She does not bother to turn around and see who it is that approaches but instead lets her snarling voice be warning enough.
”What do you want?” Rude. Beyond rude. If mother were here Ryvar would no doubt be sporting a new mark on her flank for the disrespect. But Khar wasn't. She was a prisoner and to Ryvar's own sire no less. It was a hefty weight for the young girl to bare for sure.