10-02-2016, 10:51 AM
Teal
Her mouth dried in anxiety, her golden figure rambling aimlessly around the meadow like a harried little bumble. There was no pattern to her swift movements. Her head was low, her nose working furiously to map out what she couldn't see like a hound searching for a particular scent. Without being aware of it, she trailed loops and circles, scribbling her way around and through the flowery terrain.
But she wasn't a hound, and not at all accomplished at using her sense of smell alone to guide her. So she didn't realize the scent of stony moisture was leading her to a man and not a little pool of water. Males and females both traversed this place all day every day, so she learned to ignore the distinction of gender in her seeking.
Must be close now... Her tongue felt like a sheet of sandpaper, clinging to the back of her thirsty lips. She wandered, this way then that way, crossing over the invisible path of the damp stone odor repeatedly as she struggled to follow it in a more direct fashion.
Elegant little ears sat as uselessly upon her head as her glassy eyes, and so she did not hear the man's heavy footfalls as he drifted in his grazing. Her nose bumped his warmth firmly in her eagerness to find relief, and she shrank away from it. Oh no, she groaned inwardly. She was grunting in her trepidation, though she was not aware of it, whuffling nervously and shuffling a little more in retreat.
Her head swayed left and right, trying to keep his scent in front of her. It was maddening that he could slip to the side or behind her and she'd never know until it was too late, if he were an evil sort of brute. She'd never know that, either, until it was too late.
She licked her parched lips in apprehension, trying not to be too dismayed that all her aimless searching had brought her to a stallion and not the water she thought she was going to find.
Licking him would probably not be quite as refreshing.
She'd just have to try again, and then she was chagrined at that.
But she wasn't a hound, and not at all accomplished at using her sense of smell alone to guide her. So she didn't realize the scent of stony moisture was leading her to a man and not a little pool of water. Males and females both traversed this place all day every day, so she learned to ignore the distinction of gender in her seeking.
Must be close now... Her tongue felt like a sheet of sandpaper, clinging to the back of her thirsty lips. She wandered, this way then that way, crossing over the invisible path of the damp stone odor repeatedly as she struggled to follow it in a more direct fashion.
Elegant little ears sat as uselessly upon her head as her glassy eyes, and so she did not hear the man's heavy footfalls as he drifted in his grazing. Her nose bumped his warmth firmly in her eagerness to find relief, and she shrank away from it. Oh no, she groaned inwardly. She was grunting in her trepidation, though she was not aware of it, whuffling nervously and shuffling a little more in retreat.
Her head swayed left and right, trying to keep his scent in front of her. It was maddening that he could slip to the side or behind her and she'd never know until it was too late, if he were an evil sort of brute. She'd never know that, either, until it was too late.
She licked her parched lips in apprehension, trying not to be too dismayed that all her aimless searching had brought her to a stallion and not the water she thought she was going to find.
Licking him would probably not be quite as refreshing.
She'd just have to try again, and then she was chagrined at that.
