if you do not have shadows,
you are not in the light
The call is foreign and hard to place, yet it clings to Ruthless like a stubborn bur. It pulls her closer and closer until the smell of Fiorina molds into the presence of her.
“You too?” She glares at the protruding belly evidently larger and rounder than their last interaction. She would rather clutch in the grasp of Wolfbane than feel the slap of yet another mare so important and useful pregnant.
And at a time like this?
The root to maturity seems a mystery and her small, ignorant mind cannot grasp the concept of motherhood.
Unfortunately for her, Fiorina stood high amongst the horses she awed for; pregnant, or not.
“Do you think she did the right thing?” The question grows with a fiery rage that explodes from her mouth with a merciless burn; the words held on boil too long.
An itch sings at the side of her shoulder and her head whips to mute the song, a wild mane of tangled cream vines falling with gravity as it is tossed violently. She has distanced herself, it’s evident in her nonchalant demeanor. Her heart has surrendered to reality.
She looks beautiful with angst.
Ruthless
