His vividly colored mane and tail gives him away, his shadowy form nearly melting into the darkness if it weren’t for the shocking contrast. In the dappled light it catches the shape of his wings, and immediately her eyes widen and she takes a step back into the brush. She did not come from a land like this. She had never seen anything beyond natural colors, and certainly had never seen anything that resembled wings sprouting from a horse’s back. Even though her curiosity is thoroughly piqued, so is a certain kind of fear, an instinct that tells her this is not right, this is not normal.
”What are you?” She blurts the words out before she can stop herself, stepping boldly from the veil of darkness as she does so. The shadows hardly seem to fall away, her own coat so strikingly black, although it is marred by scars and dirt. She was young, but clearly had not been living the life of luxury. Everything about her screamed wild, from the muscles that had been hardened from constantly traveling, to the tangles and burrs in her thick mane, and in the way her dark brown eyes stare at him accusingly. Everyone was dangerous to her. Everyone was untrustworthy, especially in this strange land she had happened across.
With a tilt of her chin she stares up at him, every muscle drawn taut, her legs seeming to tremble. Not from fear, but with the idea in the back of her head that she might need to make a run for it, although she was already running various scenarios through her mind and wondering how she would escape something that could fly? Growing up in her small herd, outsiders had never been welcome. Her interaction with strangers was limited, but at this point she wasn’t even sure if this was another horse she was speaking to. There was also a tiny voice inside of her reminding her that she was the outsider, and that she was surely not welcome here.
”What are you?” She blurts the words out before she can stop herself, stepping boldly from the veil of darkness as she does so. The shadows hardly seem to fall away, her own coat so strikingly black, although it is marred by scars and dirt. She was young, but clearly had not been living the life of luxury. Everything about her screamed wild, from the muscles that had been hardened from constantly traveling, to the tangles and burrs in her thick mane, and in the way her dark brown eyes stare at him accusingly. Everyone was dangerous to her. Everyone was untrustworthy, especially in this strange land she had happened across.
With a tilt of her chin she stares up at him, every muscle drawn taut, her legs seeming to tremble. Not from fear, but with the idea in the back of her head that she might need to make a run for it, although she was already running various scenarios through her mind and wondering how she would escape something that could fly? Growing up in her small herd, outsiders had never been welcome. Her interaction with strangers was limited, but at this point she wasn’t even sure if this was another horse she was speaking to. There was also a tiny voice inside of her reminding her that she was the outsider, and that she was surely not welcome here.
briseis.
you’re ripped at every edge but you’re a masterpiece
you’re ripped at every edge but you’re a masterpiece