09-03-2016, 05:35 AM
They’ve been caught up in the same whirlwind of confusion as everyone else.
Been spat out in the same places as everyone else.
They are faring better than most, because they have each other and never had anything to lose but each other.
Spear and Spark are playing, as they have always done from the moment they slipped free of mother’s safe dark womb. They cavort with the shadows of clouds on the ground, trying to outrun them. Their tails stream out behind them, one black and the other pale as snow, like from the nonexistent Tundra that throbs distant now, in their bloodstream, a memory of cold and ice. Spring keeps them warm and on their toes, happy and sassy as they grow, leaping and bounding and like deer. Well, the smaller one has their grace and nimbleness - Spear is too thick to be as nimble as Spark is, he stumbles at times, more clumsy on his large feet than she is. Still, he keeps abreast of her for most of their adventures.
Like now, when their games take them too close to a tobiano mare that tries to mask the fear in her voice. They turn their heads as a pair to her, answering to the authoritative command in her but they think it is only a ruse - she clings to something to keep her had about her shoulders, and they know this all too well, have come to recognize it in most of the adults around here. The grumbling earth and newborn mountain have made them all go funny and strange, and the twins cannot figure out why, other than that those who had things different about them are suddenly the same as they are - just horses. “Just us,” he calls back, sounding petulant as if their play had disturbed her and she reprimanded them for it.
Spark nudges him, he was entirely too boorish!
“We mean you no harm,” she says, coming out from Spear’s overprotective side.
Been spat out in the same places as everyone else.
They are faring better than most, because they have each other and never had anything to lose but each other.
Spear and Spark are playing, as they have always done from the moment they slipped free of mother’s safe dark womb. They cavort with the shadows of clouds on the ground, trying to outrun them. Their tails stream out behind them, one black and the other pale as snow, like from the nonexistent Tundra that throbs distant now, in their bloodstream, a memory of cold and ice. Spring keeps them warm and on their toes, happy and sassy as they grow, leaping and bounding and like deer. Well, the smaller one has their grace and nimbleness - Spear is too thick to be as nimble as Spark is, he stumbles at times, more clumsy on his large feet than she is. Still, he keeps abreast of her for most of their adventures.
Like now, when their games take them too close to a tobiano mare that tries to mask the fear in her voice. They turn their heads as a pair to her, answering to the authoritative command in her but they think it is only a ruse - she clings to something to keep her had about her shoulders, and they know this all too well, have come to recognize it in most of the adults around here. The grumbling earth and newborn mountain have made them all go funny and strange, and the twins cannot figure out why, other than that those who had things different about them are suddenly the same as they are - just horses. “Just us,” he calls back, sounding petulant as if their play had disturbed her and she reprimanded them for it.
Spark nudges him, he was entirely too boorish!
“We mean you no harm,” she says, coming out from Spear’s overprotective side.