It's gotta be a cloudy day
The golden vixen was grazing contently while keeping a watchful eye on her palomino colt. He was feeling the heat today and resting in the shade of a tree that lined the open field, his purple streaked flaxen tail swishing uselessly against the flies noisily buzzing around him and landing on his hide. A strangers call reached their ears and although the mare was happy to ignore it the colt was not. He understood that meant someone wanted to meet, perhaps they too had a child he could play with like the last time his mother was called so he quickly scrambled onto the awkward stilts for legs and squealed in response heading towards the sound with a choppy three-beat stride. His mother tried to cut him off but gave in to the relentlessly curious boys desire so long as he stayed glued to her side. From a distance, Ashara watched Raxa charging towards the stranger and rearing up as if to challenge her. She was horrified, scared and curious, ready to turn back from the danger. But the ebony woman softened her body language further as if to say she was no threat at all, trying to diffuse the situation. Her scent was familiar to the mother who now cautiously approached. Another Amazonian it would seem, by scent and the conversation. Relieved it was another mare, after all a woman had never hurt her, but she still approaches softly given the brindled roans tenseness. Since the first day they had met in the field Raxa had been guarded and snarky, it was a concern that she wouldn’t fit in with the peacekeepers and the honey-hued damsels’ attempts at friendship seemed to fail, but the roan did make a good warrior.
She dipped her head in greeting to the duo, keeping the young colt on the outside flank, methodically swishing her tail over his quickly growing amber body. “Good to see you Raxa.” She says politely to the fellow resident before addressing the dark one. “Welcome Naga, I am Ashara. How are you today and how is our friend Lexa?” Her calm tone feels out of place next to the tension of the warrior but she doesn’t let it get to her, setting an example for her son. The palomino mother thinks fondly of the pretty spotted femme that came to visit and it seems this mare is just as friendly. Their homeland peaking her curiosity, imagining a territory full of such lovely women.
[Sorry, this is crap. too many "she's"]