01-06-2024, 05:21 PM
Mojave sometimes forgets to keep watch, especially when there’s something more interesting to keep his attention, like the low-growing and still green sedges they’d found earlier in the afternoon. Busy eating, he doesn’t notice the approaching creature over the sound of his own chewing.
Xii, one black-tipped ear on her oblivious son, has been watching the smiling stranger make her way across the snowy meadow. She’s been smiling back, her expression open and interested, and had long ago stopped her own grazing.
“Hello!” She says cheerfully, when the other mare has come close enough to talk without Xii needing to raise her voice. Nevertheless, the oblivious Mojave jerks at the sound, lifting his dark head and turning to see who his mother is greeting. It’s not someone he knows, so he quickly finishes chewing the last bite he’d taken, knowing his mother will expect him to introduce himself.
Aware that several embarrassingly long blades of grass are still hanging from his mouth, Xii introduces the both of them - “I’m Xii, and my son Mojave.” It is easy to see the resemblance between them: both in deep brown coats that would lighten in spring, with bellies as pale as the snow on the ground. They’re both winged (hers feathered, his with feather-like leaves), and the slightly taller Mojave’s nearly-grown antlers have the same striping that covers the rest of his coat.
Swallowing the last bit of the grass that had been dangling from his face, the young stallion adds: “Hey.”
Xii, one black-tipped ear on her oblivious son, has been watching the smiling stranger make her way across the snowy meadow. She’s been smiling back, her expression open and interested, and had long ago stopped her own grazing.
“Hello!” She says cheerfully, when the other mare has come close enough to talk without Xii needing to raise her voice. Nevertheless, the oblivious Mojave jerks at the sound, lifting his dark head and turning to see who his mother is greeting. It’s not someone he knows, so he quickly finishes chewing the last bite he’d taken, knowing his mother will expect him to introduce himself.
Aware that several embarrassingly long blades of grass are still hanging from his mouth, Xii introduces the both of them - “I’m Xii, and my son Mojave.” It is easy to see the resemblance between them: both in deep brown coats that would lighten in spring, with bellies as pale as the snow on the ground. They’re both winged (hers feathered, his with feather-like leaves), and the slightly taller Mojave’s nearly-grown antlers have the same striping that covers the rest of his coat.
Swallowing the last bit of the grass that had been dangling from his face, the young stallion adds: “Hey.”