12-05-2015, 07:10 PM
He can see the kindness in her eyes as he approaches; it isn't every day that he sees a kind face in a mare, and there's something in the way she moves, the way she stands, that is so achingly familiar. His ears prick further at the way she greets him, the way her breath exhales in hello, and the way her eyes flicker tells him that they may have more in common than he thought from the start.
Her coat reminds him of the clouds on a snowy morning, the gray from the clouds and the soft white of the snow, but her eyes are filled with the warmth of a summer's eve. He whuffles back, muzzle extending out to touch hers, nudging it to reassure that his teeth won't come out without a purpose. He doesn't want to hurt her, not when she is so familiar in action and in intent.
His head lifted as she moved, a smile tugging at his lips, a neigh slipping past them at her playful nudge. It was a bold move for a mare, but he found it endearing instead of a threat. He whirled around on his hind legs, in a half-rear, to nudge her neck playfully. She smelled of summer and sunshine, of home and what used to be his herd. He nibbled her withers gently, grooming her as he would his herd, another whicker slipping out.