A muscle ticked in her jaw, begging to land a bite to the mare in front of her. Yaga wanted so badly to push her back into the ocean and watch her drown with the way she spoke, but the shire cross did not let her thoughts come free. Her need to do something but the obvious right choice were hard to pick through, but she did manage to keep herself from lashing out with her blunt teeth.


“You are on the Lost Island. A ring of five foaling land masses of different climates and herds. Currently you are standing on the shore of the Forest, my territory.” Raising a brow then, Yaga tilted her head. “Might don't well to have another swim though. Seems your manners aren't even pliable.” Yaga was as polite as she got. Straight forward, to the point, and gruff. She wasn't inking or unfeeling, but she didn't have the time for anything else that could lead the lagoon to her door step.


“Now, I asked you a question. Might be best to answer.” She wasn't as soft as other leaders, nor was she as rude as others. Currently Yaga walked a fine line, even if she wished she would pick one side of this sword edge she found herself upon. “My name is Baba Yaga.” Her name was out there, but anyone that knew anything of her name would know she was a witch, named so by her mothers dying breath.

BABA YAGA

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mare | 17.1hhs | grey | Lead of the Forest

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