The silver-haired Queen moved slowly towards the the shoreline. Spatters of dried blood coat her mahogany flesh and each step is painful. Dark ears remain pitched backward anger seething behind the black void of her intense gaze.
Lucifer had bested her. Despite the hope of her sudden attack, the black beast was prepared. Now the loss burned as strongly through her veins as the adrenaline that still fueled her movement.Instead of proudly herding the Dunes herd back into the Desert to rob the bastard of his highhorse, Nyimara is the one who now must limp away to lick her wounds and prepare for what would come next.Lucifer is a cocky beast, a bastard determined to bend the world to
his will. What he did not expect was that his neighbor was equally not one to be trifled with. She was not like his victims of the past. Helios might have walked away from his homeland, but Nyimara would breathe her last breath here in these wastelands.The cool waters of the ocean soothes the fury that threatens to consume her. A hiss escapes her parted lips at the salty sting with each passing wave, drawing the mare from her hazed thoughts much like venom from a wound. Only then does she notice that she is not the only one on the beach this day.Nyimara almost missed the smoky mare curled amid the shrinking shadows of a large boulder further up the beach. Matter of fact, the Desert Queen might have completely walked by without seeing her were it not for the occasional twitch of her ears and flick of her tail. Curiosity won over the desire to continue to soak her injured body in the surf and caused the mahogany woman to make a cautious approach. Experience with Lucifer and the knowledge that both he and Marceline resided upon two of her three borders caused the mare to still her steps with enough distance between them to brace for an attack should this stranger prove dangerous.Dark eyes narrow against the brilliant sunlight as Nyimara exhales a snort to stir the sleeping figure to life. A coy smile plays upon her ashen labrums,
”If you prefer medium rare flesh I would say you’re almost there…” she purs, flicking her own pale whipcord lazily against the supple curve of her flanks to shoo away the pesky sand flies that dared to land there. A single fluted lobe twitches as the mare continues,
”However if you would like to avoid becoming well done, I will offer to show you some proper shade. Salem can be unforgiving to those who are not experienced with its harsh sun.” *set before Nyi lost the Desert