11-18-2017, 08:50 AM
Asleep in the shadows, I had not witnessed the mare’s fall, but I had certainly heard it.
It had definitely been her, I decide as I watch the trio from a distance, the bay doesn’t look windblown and the lavender is too composed. The words they speak are muffled, but the body language is clear. The mare is not pleased with the taller stallion and looks to the bay for support. Though I have never laid eyes on any of them, something pulls me from the underbrush where I had been resting and I approach the small gathering.
My grey-green eyes blink rapidly, still clearing away the sleep, but I hold myself confidently otherwise: from the top of my chestnut pool to the roan of my rump. The ivory wings that I hold tightly to my sides are ruffled from sleep (although pristine and well-preened otherwise) and they match my sleep tussled flaxen mane and tail. I do not look like much of a protector, but I stride into the group with a confidence that belies my less than intimidating physique.
“Is everything alright here?” I ask, fixing each member of the trio with my hazel eyes for an equal amount of time. The tone of my voice suggests I have the ability to enforce order and will not hesitate to do so. This is my corner of the Meadow, and it hasn’t ever been invaded like this before. None of them are natives of this common land, and I enjoy the solitude that I had carved out for myself here. Despite the fact that I am small, untrained, and easily subdued by anyone with even a day’s instruction in battle, there is no waver in the steeliness of my green-grey gaze.
It had definitely been her, I decide as I watch the trio from a distance, the bay doesn’t look windblown and the lavender is too composed. The words they speak are muffled, but the body language is clear. The mare is not pleased with the taller stallion and looks to the bay for support. Though I have never laid eyes on any of them, something pulls me from the underbrush where I had been resting and I approach the small gathering.
My grey-green eyes blink rapidly, still clearing away the sleep, but I hold myself confidently otherwise: from the top of my chestnut pool to the roan of my rump. The ivory wings that I hold tightly to my sides are ruffled from sleep (although pristine and well-preened otherwise) and they match my sleep tussled flaxen mane and tail. I do not look like much of a protector, but I stride into the group with a confidence that belies my less than intimidating physique.
“Is everything alright here?” I ask, fixing each member of the trio with my hazel eyes for an equal amount of time. The tone of my voice suggests I have the ability to enforce order and will not hesitate to do so. This is my corner of the Meadow, and it hasn’t ever been invaded like this before. None of them are natives of this common land, and I enjoy the solitude that I had carved out for myself here. Despite the fact that I am small, untrained, and easily subdued by anyone with even a day’s instruction in battle, there is no waver in the steeliness of my green-grey gaze.