08-24-2016, 07:51 AM
Spark is by herself for the first time in well, forever.
She is the sleepless one, the bold adventurer that sucks in a breath of night air and takes that first frightening step elsewhere, without him.
The mountains go by, but they are busy biting at the sky.
Forests go by, but each branch is uplifted towards sun and stars.
Rivers go by, and she fords them easily despite the suck of their currents against her legs.
Spark is fresh of her mother’s milk and new to the taste of grass in her mouth; instinct bids her to chew and swallow it. It is palatable but lacking, as she transitions from one stage to the next during her foalhood. There is no height to her, she’ll tend towards smallness but any perceived daintiness is just that - perceived, for she is feathered feet and sinewy wildness beneath her tovero fur. Most of her is pale as the gleam of light on old, old bone but she has a pert black bonnet atop her ears and poll. She has too, the black shield upon her breast that makes her sacred medicine in her mother’s eyes - the only Medicine Hat that Scalped has thrown in all her incessant, immortal years. Spark was her twin in the flesh, only black in the parts that her mother was as red as copper pennies and spilled blood.
She ought to be tired from her travels; they should have exhausted her completely but she is fresh from them, capering beneath the stars on legs that she is fast growing into, as their length is less spindly and long. Spark does not stop to consider her surroundings; she is aware in the way that all horses are aware of things - she listens, she sends swift darting looks to the land that springs up all around her in the shape of tall grass that she could easily hide in, still. She almost thinks to, to creep and scare the slumbering horses around her but that is a game that Spear would enjoy far more than she ever could. It wasn’t in her to frighten others unnecessarily so; Spark required reason for the things that she did, they had to make sense in her expanding brain before she followed through on the action.
Her traipsing takes her right into the path of a silver buckskin stallion that seems altogether too terribly alone. Spark’s small heart swells with nameless emotion; he looks so small beneath the stars but he is hands taller than she will ever be. Her path then collides with his, the pull too strong to ignore as she comes to rest at the point of his shoulder though she touches her small nose in the crook of his armpit, sucking in a breath of stallion, sweat, and somewhere. Spark leaves her pale cheek against the round of his barrel, feeling it inflate and deflate at every breath he takes. She never really learned boundaries, and if she had, she was still the kind to break them recklessly if it suited her, like it does now to lay with her head so comfortably against him. He stayed her course for the moment, anchored her restless self to his starry orbit and there she stayed, looking at all the stars above their heads that twinkled indifferent to the things that played out beneath their cold faraway light.
She is the sleepless one, the bold adventurer that sucks in a breath of night air and takes that first frightening step elsewhere, without him.
The mountains go by, but they are busy biting at the sky.
Forests go by, but each branch is uplifted towards sun and stars.
Rivers go by, and she fords them easily despite the suck of their currents against her legs.
Spark is fresh of her mother’s milk and new to the taste of grass in her mouth; instinct bids her to chew and swallow it. It is palatable but lacking, as she transitions from one stage to the next during her foalhood. There is no height to her, she’ll tend towards smallness but any perceived daintiness is just that - perceived, for she is feathered feet and sinewy wildness beneath her tovero fur. Most of her is pale as the gleam of light on old, old bone but she has a pert black bonnet atop her ears and poll. She has too, the black shield upon her breast that makes her sacred medicine in her mother’s eyes - the only Medicine Hat that Scalped has thrown in all her incessant, immortal years. Spark was her twin in the flesh, only black in the parts that her mother was as red as copper pennies and spilled blood.
She ought to be tired from her travels; they should have exhausted her completely but she is fresh from them, capering beneath the stars on legs that she is fast growing into, as their length is less spindly and long. Spark does not stop to consider her surroundings; she is aware in the way that all horses are aware of things - she listens, she sends swift darting looks to the land that springs up all around her in the shape of tall grass that she could easily hide in, still. She almost thinks to, to creep and scare the slumbering horses around her but that is a game that Spear would enjoy far more than she ever could. It wasn’t in her to frighten others unnecessarily so; Spark required reason for the things that she did, they had to make sense in her expanding brain before she followed through on the action.
Her traipsing takes her right into the path of a silver buckskin stallion that seems altogether too terribly alone. Spark’s small heart swells with nameless emotion; he looks so small beneath the stars but he is hands taller than she will ever be. Her path then collides with his, the pull too strong to ignore as she comes to rest at the point of his shoulder though she touches her small nose in the crook of his armpit, sucking in a breath of stallion, sweat, and somewhere. Spark leaves her pale cheek against the round of his barrel, feeling it inflate and deflate at every breath he takes. She never really learned boundaries, and if she had, she was still the kind to break them recklessly if it suited her, like it does now to lay with her head so comfortably against him. He stayed her course for the moment, anchored her restless self to his starry orbit and there she stayed, looking at all the stars above their heads that twinkled indifferent to the things that played out beneath their cold faraway light.