Biting’s excellent. It’s like kissing, only there’s a winner.
Life was all a big joke so far.
A girl had never gotten adopted, and with her body, her scowl had grown. She’d left the fairies’ den without any family, thinking that perhaps he father didn’t know that she existed, or had died, and maybe even though her mother hadn’t wanted her, there might be someone out there who could tell her why she was green, or take her in and love her.
She’d never left Beqanna, and grown old and bitter with the knowledge of not being wanted.
Last year she had tried. At least travel and see the kingdoms. But the leader of the volcano kingdom had intercepted her, and scolded her, and she’d returned with just another line on her forehead. Forever doomed to roam the commonlands.
Then Carnage had appeared. For once, she liked the idea of being wanted, even if it was just his seasonal lust and her loneliness that had brought him to her. She’d not wanted a baby, and even after the bay colt had been born she could never quite bond with him; he’d run away for good this time, but he was mostly weaned, and she found that she did not mind. Did not care.
Perhaps one day she’d meet someone and know it to be family, grandkids, or whatever. Perhaps he had died on his trip, and she was without a family once more. Who knew.
It’s the season again, and she snaps at whomever approaches. Stallions could find other mares. Mares were mostly either as prickly as she, or already pregnant, heavy with the smell of men about them.
She doesn’t know what she wants any more, or what she needs. But the least they can do is leave her alone to eat.