"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
The Deserts had flooded and she had barely slipped passed the boundaries before the water took over. There was nothing left, even the giant tree in the middle of the Deserts was overrun with water. Yael was gone. Vanquish was gone. And so was Qatar and Alek. They were all gone and she was left alone...Again.
Not that she necessarily minded, but she had been getting comfortable in the Deserts and enjoying it rather well. Until the magic and the flood and the Raid. She sighs softly, her hooves taking her farther away from the flooding of her home and she wonders what she should do now.
She stops paying attention to where she is walking. She follows some trail subconsciously, as her mind wanders. Well, she could go to the Meadow and see who was around. Or she could go to the Jungle. The sisters there would probably welcome her and it was warm. Her thin coat couldn't handle the cold winter that was biting the rest of the land south of her now. It got cold at night in the Deserts, but never quite snow cold.
Another sigh.
It's not till the fresh scents of other horses catches her nose that she blinks and realizes she has no idea where she had wandered too. A look around sets her in the badlands, okay, she knows where she is...kind of. Another look and she takes in the orange flowers that seem to lead into a trail of some sort back further into the lands. Curious, she follows them, noticing as they grow thicker and thicker...as well as the scent of a stallion and two mares.
She ignores that part, always being a curious girl, continues deep into his herdland before she finds the little cul-de-sac that hides a beautiful oasis. A gasp escapes her lips. "How beautiful!" And then..."Oh hell." As she realizes that she has trespassed deep into Mandan's herd land.
He stands atop an escarpment overlooking his portion of the badlands; from up there, he spots the black mare easily and tracks her course through the canyon until she is brought up short by the orange flowers. She seems to realize that she has strayed far from wherever it is that she originated from, and he keeps an eye on her as she decides to travel deeper into the oasis that she discovers. He cannot blame her, the land is deceptive and beautiful and the smell of it is nearly as sweet as that of a mare in heat to him.
The big bay leaps down the escarpment in a clatter of small loose rocks that roll away beneath his hooves. In a matter of strides, he is beside her; close enough to hear the awe change to exasperation in her voice as she realizes the mistake she has made. “Something wrong?” he remarks with a grin that is more sneer than anything else. It would be a lie to say that he did not delight in the error she has made by trespassing so deeply into his territory. Deep enough, he thinks, that he cannot rightly let her go now. No, that would be foolish on his part to just escort her right back out.
His eyes regard her with a twinge of impatience as if he has expected an answer already; maybe he does, he lacks patience nowadays unless it is with the fruit of his own loins, those sons and daughters that used to trail obediently and happily after him. He paws at the red rock underfoot and says, “Well?” Mandan fully expects her to balk at the idea of taking up permanent residence in his herd but he thinks his horns will be enough to convince her to remain, unless she wishes to pit her small mettle against his brawny might… and he almost relishes the idea of such a challenge, except in his mind’s eye he’s fighting a salmon-pointed bay mare instead who was just as small and delicate as the black is.
He snorts fiercely, dispelling the vision in his head and snakes his horned head around her flanks in an attempt to drive her further into the oasis. If there was any kindness left in him, it was in the fact that he did not actually prod her with his horns to move, just feinted at her flesh and dodged back out of the way of a misplaced bite or kick. For the first time in a long time, he almost smiled in anticipation of what was to come (she reeked of the Deserts, like his mother did, and maybe that put him in mind of the black being of a hardier breed having come from there).
She is oblivious to the fact that he was following her. Although perhaps subconsciously she had taken in the scuff of a hoof against a rock or a the cracking of a branch behind her and ignored it. Perhaps she was subconsciously wanting the excitement and emotional drama it would create in her life. Perhaps her subconscious was a little crazy and starved for some action. She wouldn't ever really know.
So when he says something to her, she shies to the side, practically jumping there even as her head turns to take in the 'threat.' And wasn't he a magnificent specimen of male? Even with those curling horns that struck up from his head. And those muscles that flexed beneath his bay pelt every time he moved. She might have drooled...just a little.
'Well?' Oh right, he asked her a question and she shakes her head. "I..Uh...realized I was trespassing awfully deep into your herd." And she steps away reflexively as his horns stray a little to close to her flanks. Herding her was he?
She freezes for a moment as she decides whether or not to stay or to challenge her way out of this predicament. He seemed a little closed off, even if he was a dream hunk of a stallion. She tilts her head as she studies him, ears flickering back and forth uncertainly before she smiles a wicked smile. She can see the way his body tenses and releases as if he is just waiting for her to strike out and be angry.
So she does what he probably least expects and steps closer to him, dodging those horns nimbly. She brushes her body long his side and lands a light nip on his neck. "Well handsome, guess you're stuck with me. I just claimed you." And she winks before she dances away from his side laughing. Those dark brown eyes of hers dancing. "I'm Feyre in case you wanted to know...and even if you didn't perhaps." A small shrug of her shoulders. She obviously didn't have much of a filter or really care that she didn't.
His lip curls up in satisfaction at having scared her; she clearly was incapable of knowing that she had been followed the moment she trespassed into the badlands - his lands, and he likes the way she leaps frightfully at the sound of his voice in the empty air. He had half a mind to tease her further and ask if she was scared much or easily, but she is staring at him and he wonders if he has hawk poop on his horns (wouldn’t be the first or the last time, birds tend to void their bowels in the midst of flight and it is disgusting but also a fact of nature). Then he realizes that she is staring at him like a dog confronted with a piece of meat but dangled just within reach except not.
The black mare dances just out of reach of his horntips as she stutters something about having been aware all along that this land was his and home to his laughably small herd. Once her stutter would have opened something in his heart, something genuine and nice other than the dark blossom of malice that lurks there - he wants to wipe the wicked grin off her face but it tugs at him, tugs in an unfamiliar way as she freezes like a hare, considering. He is about to inch closer, to push the tip of a horn into her malleable flesh when steps in closer to him and his horns miss her completely. Mandan is shocked to say the least, as his flings his head up abruptly and snorts at the sudden nearness of her that fills his nostrils with her sweet unfamiliar scent and the way her black flesh is all he can see.
It is his turn to freeze the moment her flesh brushes against his own; too close, the very fabric of his skin screams in protest as his muscles tense unexpectedly as if she has burned him. Her nip is further insult to the injury of her claiming him as carelessly as he has done to her. It almost - almost - makes him grin, not in malice but in mischief, as if he was a colt again, large and so very unsure of himself, and most of all, playful. He is none of those things: colt, unsure, or playful but he is large and he throws his brawn after her, more nimble on his feet than a large stallion like him has a right to be. Her eyes laugh and dance, like her agile feet, and it is really too much for him and he wants to run his horns right through the salmon-pointed brown of her… but he freezes, it is not Ygritte that dances before him but some black mare that says her name is Feyre, and his murderous intent falls to the side, silenced by the fact that it isn’t her - the heart thief, and he sucks in a sharp breath.
“Guess I need something to call you by,” he mumbles, moving closer to her though he is slowed now by his own inaction and maybe a little uncertainty breaks through to shine like a dark cloud on his face. “I’m Mandan,” he adds gruffly, near enough now to retaliate with another nip but his lips shut over his teeth and his dark eyes swing from her to the oasis before them. He nearly shoves his nose into his neck, as if to goad her forth but she moves of her own accord, more freely than he cares to see as he starts to fall behind her, trailing after in case she changes her mind.
