My Heart Is Refusing Me (Stallions)

[Dahmer]

take my head, kick it in

break some bread for all my sins

Dahmer has not visited the field since winter. He enjoys it more now, when the earth isn't blanketed in white, when the air doesn't bite at him harshly. He will endure the cold when necessary, but the black beast avoids anything frosty as much as he can help it. There are a few fallen leaves along the outskirts of the field, where the tree boughs hang over the grass. It is otherwise a flat span of verdant green.

Dahmer roams leisurely, his blue eyes following the contours of the field until his gaze rests on the Friesian pair. Curious, he adjusts his path so that he is heading in their direction. The black thoroughbred nears them swiftly, giving a small nod in greeting, "Hello." Dahmer's voice is gravelly, but warm. His blue eyes flick between the two of them for a moment before he continues speaking, "My name is Dahmer, of Tephra."

He offers a lopsided smirk to the mare, ears fluttering in her direction as he takes special mind to ignore the other stallion. Sure, sometimes he likes to be petty.

"And who are you, beautiful?" There is something predatory about him, but Dahmer has perfected his sliminess with just the right amount of intrigue.

He waits, silently appreciating the warmth of early autumn.

SOLDIER OF TEPHRA