The silver haired Queen is not left to solitude for long. Despite the chill of the morning that keeps most desert creatures just beginning to stir from whatever warm nest they may have taken comfort in during the night, the ever vigil Kara makes her way up the rocky outcropping to join at her side.

Though her affection for the mare would never have the same fire as what she once shared with Shenzi, or the same passion and obsession as her heart burned for Bjorn and Asmodeus…. still, the storm-keeper had a special place in her cold soul that could never be replaced.

Thus when the mare approached with neck bent in submission and pale blue eyes hopefully, Nyimara cannot help the swell of reassurance as the faintest hints of a smile tug at the corners of her lips. “Ive told you before…..” she purrs, her sultry voice gravelled with the early morning hour. “You need not use such regalities when it is just us.” She finishes, exhaling a soft, huffing breath against the dappled-mare's ashen lips. “Nyi is perfectly fine.”

Nyimara lifts her chocolate head now, near black eyes scanning the horizon as the sun blankets the landscape in light. Casually she gives her refined crown a toss, ridding her vision field of the tangle of silver white forelock that settled there. “What has you up so early my dear? I imagined you might still be resting after your patrol.”