11-15-2015, 12:34 PM
Closer now, the strange motions made by the stallion make more sense. The whiteness of his eyes, the way her arrival startled him – he must be blind. Djinni cannot imagine what that must be like, to live in a world and lack one of the most important senses. He’s never seen a sunrise, she thinks as he answers her, or looked upon the face of another horse.
There is something else off, something that she cannot quite put a name on. Brynmor seems to be on guard, but against more than just the world. Is this the way blind horses are, she wonders? Are deaf horses just as tense? She doesn’t have time to linger on the thought long. The stallion introduces himself and she offers a smile that she realizes too late that he cannot see.
“It is a nice day,” she says, “No clouds in the sky, though I suspect we’ll have a thunderstorm by afternoon if the horizon is any guide.” There are iron grey thunderheads roiling in the east, promising a summer afternoon storm. She’ll have to find somewhere away from the rain she thinks, and then immediately wonders where this blind stallion has to go. “Do you live here?” She asks, “Or are you just visiting the Meadow?”
There is something else off, something that she cannot quite put a name on. Brynmor seems to be on guard, but against more than just the world. Is this the way blind horses are, she wonders? Are deaf horses just as tense? She doesn’t have time to linger on the thought long. The stallion introduces himself and she offers a smile that she realizes too late that he cannot see.
“It is a nice day,” she says, “No clouds in the sky, though I suspect we’ll have a thunderstorm by afternoon if the horizon is any guide.” There are iron grey thunderheads roiling in the east, promising a summer afternoon storm. She’ll have to find somewhere away from the rain she thinks, and then immediately wonders where this blind stallion has to go. “Do you live here?” She asks, “Or are you just visiting the Meadow?”
D J I N N I
genie | rose gold tobiano dun | trickster