Tension gathers beneath Raksha’s russet pelt as another mare bursts from the shadows of the thick forest beyond the beach. Chocolate-tipped ears flicker forward and then snap back again, disappearing beneath the thick water-logged tendrils of her mane. Nostrils flare paper-thin as she exhales a snort in warning, stomping her hoof to emphasize her meaning. All her life she has wanted nothing more than peace. Nyimara wanted her daughter to be a warrior like her sisters and brother, wanted her to become a leader and a force to be leashed and released at her whim. Suleiman had changed that for her. He and Silka and Mariael had all taught her that she wasn’t some broken little puppet like her mother would make her believe. She was different, and that was fine.
’I didn’t intend to win….’ the words cause her gaze to swivel towards the tall, draft mare. A mixture of shock and anger dancing behind her widened gaze. Didn’t mean to win? As opposed to what? As though this was a mere game being played? As if she were a mere pawn, moved back and forth at the whim of a mare who saw her as unworthy? As though she was not treated as anything special like Suleiman made her feel? ’..I hadn’t intended to keep you… but the decision is wavering…’ the threat clear even to Raksha’s inexperienced ears. A threat Nyimara has used a time or two in the mare’s younger years to ensure Raksha did as she was bid. Nyimara… that was who she saw when she looked at this mare, at her companion with the Cheshire grin. A tyrant. Paper-thin nostrils exhale another breath as the lean muscles along her russet body coil, preparing for whatever was to come next. This gray mare and her companion were igniting the long-dormant flame within her. And she hadn’t even gotten a chance to say goodbye to Suleiman or at the very least tell him what happened.Suleiman.As if the very thought was some silent prayer, the white and gold stallion appears from the surf with the same anger in his eyes. Attention shifts from the unfamiliar pair to gaze shamelessly at her mate, her azure ooids flashing with relief. He was here, she wasn’t alone. But that meant….. "The boys?" she whispers, pressing her small muzzle into the concave of his shoulder as he comes to stand at her side, his damp coat pressing against her own. Despite herself, Raksha cannot help but to lean into his touch, drawing comfort from the solid warmth of his towering frame. Suleiman is furious, more angry than she has ever remembered seeing before. Despite herself, she cannot help the small, satisfied smile that tugs at the corners of her ashen lips as he addresses the charcoal mare with firm tones. He was still here. Small and fluttering, the sigh of relief that escapes her is real. Since Silka’s death, Raksha worried that he might be fading away. With Mariael gone, she had almost expected it. Despite herself, Raksha awoke each morning expecting to find him too cold at her side. The bond between them, the fierceness with which they all loved one another, it was beginning to wither away at him. Seeing him now, his blue-green eyes hard as stones of turquoise and his lean body tense as he stands protectively at her side, she cannot help but to send a silent thanks to the gods. He wasn’t completely gone. He was alive, now more than ever before.’....This is not leadership.’ his voice is filled with command as he continues to glare at the gray mare. Raksha stills, her azure gaze drifting from her mate to stare at the unfamiliar woman recognizing for the first time, the youthful appearance of her features. It is a startling revelation for her. ”Why?...” she asks, her voice softer now as she takes a step forward to bring herself even with Suleiman, confident in the press of his shoulder against her own. Fluted lobes lift as she blinks up at the gray mare. ”Why did you come to the Arch in the first place?” perhaps the answer to that question might shed more light on the bigger picture that they found themselves staring in.