She is tired of hunting these same grasslands.
She is tired of stalking these same shores.

There is a selfish part of her that wants to blame her mother, since she is the leader of this desolate place. But that is a childish thought, and not only that, but an entirely baseless one. She knows Ryatah would have preferred to still be in Hyaline, if it hadn't been destroyed. None of them had come here by choice. And maybe that is where most of Iliana’s frustration is born from — she has no choice but to be here.

There is no other kingdom.
There is hardly any other land at all.

She longed for the time when she had thought Hyaline was beginning to feel small. When she had decided she was ready to explore the other mountaintops and treelines, when the various coasts called to her and there was truly a whole world waiting for her.

Now there is grass, and water, and more water, and resentment.

This morning she finds herself stalking through the meadow grass in her familiar panther form, the sunlight catching the rose-gold markings that laced across her black fur. The constant irritation that now seemed to be her closest companion felt lesser in this form, the more predatory instincts taking its place. Her rose-gold eyes slowly scanned her surroundings as she slank through the territory undisturbed, not exactly sure what she is searching for. She is not really after prey today; at least, not to eat.

Because now her eyes had locked on a familiar target up ahead, halting her movements briefly to better judge the path the dark stallion was taking. Iliana has mostly kept to herself over the past several months, but she could not deny that seeing the shapeshifter from Hyaline around the Pampas occasionally had at least eased some of her discontent about the state of the world.

While she is pretty sure he had not seen her yet, she knows that she will not be able to trail him for long without going undetected, and so she hastens her stride as much as she can without raising alarm. Once she is several paces behind she surges forward, gathering her hindquarters to launch herself in a leap that lands herself alongside him with a flourish. “Good morning, Malik,” she purrs the emphasis on his name, her white teeth glinting in a brief smile. A little reluctantly, she shifts into her own equine form to match his. “Where are you off to on this fine morning?”