It was intimidating, leaving the safety and concealment of her cave. The storm had forced her in there, but her injuries had been what made her stay. Hardly able to carry her own weight she had taken her time to recover with no one but Volcan for company. The sharp-tongued mare made a decent companion, but her crass ways had soon begun to wear of the soft spoken cremello. Left alone to her own devices, Nymf had taken the opportunity to explore the reaches of Nerine.
Limping along the pathway, it didn’t take long before she stumbled upon the small group of mares. The Amazons they had come to call themselves. Reborn and still growing, Nymf was glad to see the absence of male influence. She was not yet ready to face the opposite sex.
Bright blue bruises stood out starkly against the pale cream of her coat. No matter how she organized her wings, she could not hide the extent of her damage. Even one of her wings hung slightly lower than the other.
The pain of childbirth had long since subsided and she hadn’t gotten used to the empty feeling of her womb. She missed the little flutters of life that her son had blessed her with daily. Every little kick, hiccup or roll had reassured her that he was still there and thriving. Now that he was gone, it had taken a while before she no longer felt phantom movements.
She could not find the words the describe the depths of her sorrow and when asked by Volcan, she found it easier to give short simple answers than to divulge the truth. Besdies, Volcan didn’t seem terribly interested. Nymf knew the only reason the brusque mare even asked was to make sure that she no longer intended to hurl herself over the side of the cliff.
It was unfortunate that she had been found in such a state. The stigma of that stormy evening would linger over her for a long time and she was certain that her rescuer had already passed along the tale of her newest recruit. That was all she was, after all. A recruit. The more Nymf thought back to that fateful moment the more she’d realized that Volcan had been searching for such an opportunity as the one that she had given her. She was vulnerable and alone and broken and all Volcan had to do was swoop in an offer safety. That wasn’t to say, of course, that she wasn’t grateful for the mare’s actions that night. In that moment Nymf had needed someone to intervene – to force her away from the edge of her despair.
Her mind wandered back to the stormy night, only one day since Volcan had ushered her into the cave. While the sooty mare slept, Nymf had snuck out back to the place where her son lay. There, in the midst of the thunder and the rain, she had buried him and marked his grave with a stone. The memory brought with it a misting of tears and she quickly shook them away. If she wanted to impress the Amazonian queen, Hestia, she had to prove that she was strong and determined. She had to learn all she could before she sought the revenge she thirsted for. With Hestia’s help, there was hope and purpose once more and Nymf was eager to meet the queen who reigned over Nerine.
