Megaera

The fiery warrior was still firing her questions when the pale gold mare arrived. In her eagerness to continue her mission, to find out if the absent Sultana was indeed here in the Falls, safe and well after a season away, her impulsivity got the better of her. She would have near ignored the newcomer, waiting for Africa to answer, but the gold mare spoke first. The disapproval was clear in her sight and her tone, but her demand for an explanation of why Megaera was demanding an explanation instantly riled the bay.

Her gaze rounded on the newcomer, dark eyes seeing only red in a short spit of righteous indignation. She ignored the introduction of the bouncing bird and positively growled: “Questions?! The Sultana of Dragon’s Throat turns up missing so I am sent. I find she has turned up in need of healing--has been here for WEEKS and you challenge my asking questions?! The Sultan should have been informed as soon as she arrived, a messenger sent at once, and you were just now thinking of sending us word!” She didn’t want to be rude, didn’t mean to be quite so abrasive, but she also didn’t take any time to check her words before they spilled out. Her posture mirrored the indignation: still limbs, arched neck and eyes blazing. In the back of her mind, behind her temper, she realized exactly what Rasta’s milky stare might mean, that from where she stood, the posture and the proximity, placed her as Africa’s friend, and a closer one than Meg had ever been.

The arrival of Midas was the shimmer of distraction that had Megaera checking her behavior. The stallion had been Sultan as well when she had first come to the Throat, and she knew him by sight well enough. His calm approach and welcoming smile made her hasty words seem twice as harsh. She had not the capacity for meekness (not anymore) and her pride kept her standing tall, but the aggression that came so quickly to her began to fade. Gaucho had sent her to seek information, not start a war so today she had to be an emissary as well as a warrior. It reflected poorly upon herself and her entire herd to enter a friend’s home with disrespect, and she was properly ashamed to have let herself lean in that direction

She nodded respectfully to the Czar, “Midas.” She greeted, frustrated at her own agitation, but making a firm attempt at remaining polite. “I am Megaera, a warrior of the Throat; Gaucho sent me to seek information concerning the whereabouts of Sohalia.” She hesitated then knowing what she should do, but finding it hard to build up the humility to do it. Megaera had the arrogance of a born warrior; she hated having her flaws brought to her attention even as she tried to overcome them.

Sighing at herself more than anyone, she turned back to the mares and addressed them both. “I apologize for my behavior. It was wrong of me to be so rude in your home.” Her gaze had lost its fury but not its fire, that and her tone were sincere, as hard as it was for to admit her own mistakes. She shifted again, including all three in her address. “If Sohalia is here and well, I should like to know, and a bit of what has transpired if you would tell me. I should not linger to long unless there is something I can do to help my Sultana. The Wildfire is worried, and I can get back to him quickly it would ease his burdens.” It really was Gaucho that she worried over now. Meg’s devotion to her lead was unequivocal, and he was already agonizing over the crimes he had been unknowingly complicit in these months. If she could help ease this worry at least, she wanted to do it as soon as possible.

a soldier does not have time to wait
a soldier cannot hesitate