08-22-2016, 07:17 AM
The gold mare seems more than willing, but Njenyi is cautious.
The black bay stallion nearby had seemed harmless – too young to really know the ways of the world – but the red and white stallion sends him a warning glare, complete with pinned ears and a snort that most plainly says: “get lost”. The mare, meanwhile, has pressed herself against him, purring in a way that is most reminiscent of lionesses in heat. Though he is unfamiliar with her methods (the methods of horse mares, perhaps? Zebra mares do not so willingly burden themselves with progeny) the message is clear.
She is small enough that the deed is easy; a short rear, a few instinctive tugs at her mane, some bites along her crest and the deed is done. With any luck, she’ll be growing round by autumn’s end, and will drop a healthy foal come spring. Though Njenyi has heard of the variable seasons here in Beqanna, he is not at all anticipating winter. Perhaps with a large enough bunch of mares they’ll be able to keep warm.
“Gemstone Ridge,” he tells her, nudging her in the direction of the mountainous herdland that he’s claimed. It different from the savanna, but it will have to do. “Go,” he adds with a firmer nudge to her chest with his nose. “Now.”
The black bay stallion nearby had seemed harmless – too young to really know the ways of the world – but the red and white stallion sends him a warning glare, complete with pinned ears and a snort that most plainly says: “get lost”. The mare, meanwhile, has pressed herself against him, purring in a way that is most reminiscent of lionesses in heat. Though he is unfamiliar with her methods (the methods of horse mares, perhaps? Zebra mares do not so willingly burden themselves with progeny) the message is clear.
She is small enough that the deed is easy; a short rear, a few instinctive tugs at her mane, some bites along her crest and the deed is done. With any luck, she’ll be growing round by autumn’s end, and will drop a healthy foal come spring. Though Njenyi has heard of the variable seasons here in Beqanna, he is not at all anticipating winter. Perhaps with a large enough bunch of mares they’ll be able to keep warm.
“Gemstone Ridge,” he tells her, nudging her in the direction of the mountainous herdland that he’s claimed. It different from the savanna, but it will have to do. “Go,” he adds with a firmer nudge to her chest with his nose. “Now.”