She wasn’t a mother.
Her experience is thin with child-baring females, her experience with obnoxious males and self-righteous brutes even less so. Yet, her talent is to put herself in uncomfortable, awkward situations.
It was just a very unfortunate talent Exemplary had grown into over these years.
She watches from a distance (at first), as a female blossoming with a growing baby within her belly meanders through the snow. Exemplary herself isn’t familiar with deep snow; such is obvious as she plunges through lanky-like and rugged. The Deserts is warm, invitingly. Her body longs to be heated by the sweet sun, and golden sand once more.
This time of year, Exemplary has no complaints for the dreaded heat wave.
It doesn’t take long of course for the game of the field to commence. Much like the traditional ways of claiming, males bound themselves up to mares like savages. It is a normal occurrence here, unfortunately the modern technique of negotiating and “pitching” hadn’t been caught on to everyone quite yet. It tended to be the more educated, advanced equines adopted the more civil, appropriate way to recruit. While, the more challenged and “family” troubled souls opted to the easier, and less intellectually demanding sport of claiming.
Well, to each their own.
It isn’t the manner of how they approach her that draws Exemplary to the side of the female, but more of how the mare reacts to their greeting. One, the first one, he seems quite tolerable but the second one… reeking of testosterone and making up for his lack of height in personality… He is the one that triggers something.
Something that forces Exemplary from her introverted shell.
“Exemplary,” she states as she wanders up to the side of the mare—a comfortable distance, minding her manners, but close enough to give guidance and comfort. To be approached by so many males can certainly be suffocating, Exemplary being (for the most part) unbelievably shy can relate to the feeling of anxiety.
“Of the Deserts,” her voice is hindering on professionalism and wariness, keeping the shorter stallion within her sight, giving no benefit of doubt to the red male either. Her patience with males had been deteriorating.
“Seems we have all forgotten our manners, I didn’t seem to catch any of your names while I eavesdropped.” She is honest, too honest maybe. Something about this situation however, makes her feel she shouldn’t be closed. For the sake of the pregnant mare, she feels drawing the attention off from her might just save her a claiming brawl.
“I will make this short,” she pauses, turning her glance to the mare beside her, “I don’t know your name. However I want you to know the Deserts is a lovely kingdom, I was taken there when I was first born because I had nowhere to go. They provided for me, and gave me a life that I will forever be thankful for. If you want that sort of life for yourself, and your child. We are more than welcome to open our doors for you. I won’t force you, this is an offer I will put on the table. I promise, we will keep you safe.”
She moves slightly closer, yet still stopping beyond the reach of the mare, “I would love to know your name.”
Exemplary
I will be yours, and only yours, until the day I fade to black
little rusty, that I can own up to. Still getting used to her and figuring her out, so bare with me
