11-27-2016, 11:48 PM
He sensed her heartbeat more than heard it, but he relished it all the same. It thundered in his veins, echoed in his mind, and he lapped it up greedily, sucking the marrow from the bones of the moment and relishing the tension that ran like a live wire between the pair of them.
He felt her yielding to his request, to the weight of the Fear as it pressed upon the curve of her spine. He felt it, her resolve slipping away, the submission and terror blending together, braiding up her back and into her nerves.
But their gaze broke and his hold upon the threads slipped.
Before he knew what was going on, she was turning and running and he growled in frustration, the noise louder and deeper than expected from his youthful lungs. Foolish thing. Foolish mare. Now she would have to pay. Rocking back slightly, he shot forward, the speed of his gift coursing through his veins. There were few who could keep up with him, let alone a mare with a hitched step. Even without his gift, he would have likely managed to catch her, but with the Speed coursing through his veins? He was unstoppable.
He was the Fear and he would not be outrun.
His lengthy gait ate up the earth between them, his cloven hooves striking out at the barren wasteland so that the sound echoed all around them. In his anger, he reached out, hungry fingers twisting through the air to grab a hold of her vulnerable mind to warp the landscape once more, to make the sound of his pursuit even louder, even angrier than it was. He reached her side and bared his teeth, lips pulling back.
“Come then,” he whispered between them. “If you want to run, run.” He laughed and pulled back, toying with the threads of the Fear between them. “Faster. You will need to run faster than that.” He slowed more, enjoying the pursuit, nipping at her flanks to drive her further, drive her faster. The land opened up beneath them, empty, but he guided her, biting viciously when she veered, to a place of further seclusion.
To a place where the craggy slopes provided little protection, but just enough privacy.
“Faster,” he growled, just loud enough to be heard. “You will need to be faster to outrun me.”
Foolish, foolish mare.
Bruise
head like a hole; as black as your soul.