I had stepped out of the Throat for a breath, making my way to the edges of the territory where yellow grasses slowly begin to green. My head was heavy with the weight of this crown, my rump pained from the battle I had taken part in. None of that had mattered, though, for the other winged brats had no sense of honor and respect these days. I felt like an old hag, walking from the home where I kept rule, being endlessly slandered by ungrateful idiots and shameless traitors. The only reason I remained was the same reason I had fought. There were those in the Throat who still held their faith in me, their loyalty. The ones who stood by my side when the leeches had come, trying to suck the lifeblood of my family from the desert, after they had failed to unseat me.

The insult that reminded me constantly of the sting in my ass was quite annoying. I had seen some lowly, awful things in my time when it came to diplomacy, had been the mastermind for several, but this instance had shocked me into hiding my anger away. I had never been so wrong about an individual before in my life as I had been about Leander. The misstep in my judgment made me wary. Was I really fit to lead? Was I being hypocritical of Leander whilst calling him unfit for the title? Am I just a fool wearing a crown?

I definitely was a fool wearing a crown, but whether or not I was fit to wear one was yet to be determined.

The spring wind tugs playfully at my mane, an invisible friend. The element reaches down, trying to quell the awful feeling of self-doubt in my gut. It races through strands of blonde mane, thoroughly washed from the dance in the thunderstorm I had subjected myself to for the herd's benefit. I would have allowed myself to wallow in my own misery out in the meadow, had it not been for the strange noise which garners my attention next. My ears perk up, head lifting from the ground, dark blue eyes scanning. In the distance, I hear the hoofbeats of another. Thankfully for this stallion, we were beyond the official borders of the Throat, so I will have no qualms with him today - at least not yet.

I catch a glimpse of him walking before he speaks, pausing to look down at a strange metal contraption shaped like a predator. Curious, I tilt my head, moving onward to approach the stranger, swaggering to avoid putting weight on my bruised hind.

"Are you a crafter?" I ask simply, giving the stallion the look of someone who should not be fucked with, even if my voice was friendly enough.
""