09-01-2016, 10:48 AM
Riva felt a flood of redemption in her body; the kill had been a long time in coming, almost righteous in the way she had delivered the swift kicks and her need for vengeance had been conquered. Really though, she could not stand to see that horrible excuse of a mare known as mother rip the wings off her own hours’ old son. It - more than all the hurt and the anger - had spurred Riva into action, a kind that she had only dreamed of, dreams that she thought would always go unfulfilled until that fateful moment she had stumbled upon this tiny half-brother and their odd spider-marked mother. Laiken is bones on the beach now, and Riva couldn’t be happier.
She tries to keep the pace slow enough for him to accompany her; she knows the Jungle loam is tricksy to those not used to it. Riva likes the Jungle and it’s tricksy manner, but she needs it to accept her new charge and let him pass unscathed instead of miring him in her lovely muck. She comes to a little stream and hops across it, not entirely thinking that he is tired from his entire ordeal and also so new to those spindly little legs of his. But she hears the “oof!” and swings her head around to look at him; he looks a little funny just sitting there on his rump, but she’s sure that it didn’t feel too good to land on it. Riva hops back across the stream and nuzzles him affectionately, or as affectionately as one like Riva can get.
“Um…” good question kid, it’s stumped Riva. She never considered this, or how to navigate the unfamiliar waters of familial relationships, especially when you are a relative stranger. She settles for what is easiest - “I’m Riva, what’s your name kid?” Her lips grasp an ear and tug tenderly on it; he settles her, oddly enough, makes her almost motherly - not that she has any idea what that is like, Riva has managed to escape each season unscathed and thin as ever. Plus, mothering a foal even this blood-related colt, doesn’t come naturally to such a hateful heart like hers’ but she’ll do her best not to corrupt him before he has a chance to corrupt himself.
She tries to keep the pace slow enough for him to accompany her; she knows the Jungle loam is tricksy to those not used to it. Riva likes the Jungle and it’s tricksy manner, but she needs it to accept her new charge and let him pass unscathed instead of miring him in her lovely muck. She comes to a little stream and hops across it, not entirely thinking that he is tired from his entire ordeal and also so new to those spindly little legs of his. But she hears the “oof!” and swings her head around to look at him; he looks a little funny just sitting there on his rump, but she’s sure that it didn’t feel too good to land on it. Riva hops back across the stream and nuzzles him affectionately, or as affectionately as one like Riva can get.
“Um…” good question kid, it’s stumped Riva. She never considered this, or how to navigate the unfamiliar waters of familial relationships, especially when you are a relative stranger. She settles for what is easiest - “I’m Riva, what’s your name kid?” Her lips grasp an ear and tug tenderly on it; he settles her, oddly enough, makes her almost motherly - not that she has any idea what that is like, Riva has managed to escape each season unscathed and thin as ever. Plus, mothering a foal even this blood-related colt, doesn’t come naturally to such a hateful heart like hers’ but she’ll do her best not to corrupt him before he has a chance to corrupt himself.