05-04-2017, 01:05 PM
Seirath was a pseudo-parent. And not a very effective one. In the role of disciplinarian, especially, he was greatly flawed. While he slept, refusing to let the desert’s irritating heat rob him of a few more hours of rest, she had struck off again into the unknown. Now, sweat-glossed and more exhausted than before his nap, he was threading his way anxiously and meticulously across this new landscape in vain search of her impish figure. She had lulled him into a false sense of security, he decided. Clearly, she knew what she was doing and she had deliberately tricked him by behaving like a normal, appropriately attached child and hanging close to him for weeks weeks, so that he would sleep soundly for once and she could escape.
Of course, that wasn’t exactly true… she had never been particularly concerned with following the rules he tried to establish. It was definitely not the first time he had woken up to find her footsteps leading him onward, the faint scent of primrose in her wake.
Seirath was large enough to deter most predators, and reasonably confident he could handle one that was desperate enough to pursue the tiny golden snack. These advantages, however, really only applied when she was within earshot. And now… now there were greater dangers. Horses, groups of horses, usually meant trouble. He had noticed the difference a few days ago; the unmistakable signs of other horses, of trodden paths, of engaged borders. He had said nothing to her, but she would have smelled them, as he did, last night as they drew nearer. Seirath had been planning to skirt around the whole place. He wasn’t sure what his reluctance was, exactly, but he had not intended to make himself – or the filly – known here. Obviously she had had other plans.
He broke into an easy trot, scanning with narrowed eyes between trunks and across distant hills. He didn’t really expect to spot her, but the adrenaline kept his sharp gaze on alert. Taking no more than a minute to catch his breath, restraining his eager feet with difficulty to give his eyes ample time to turn over each stone he passed.
What was that?
He paused, hungry for any morsel, any break in the monotony of his search.
Voices.
He pushed onward.
Quite suddenly the Plains opened up ahead of him. He halted abruptly, his feet sliding a little on frosted grass. Panting, Seirath turned to take in the full scope of his surroundings; the strangers, the lush space, the relaxed atmosphere.
The day was waning, the light was soft, but still the sun made itself felt. He stood before the outstretched Plains in his silence and his glory, his unspoken dedication, his hidden motive. His stance was that of a man braced against the calamity of the next horizon; the tension in his body superseded only by the calm austerity of his features. His face betrayed skepticism at the corners of the eyes, but otherwise was consumed with the grim sobriety of a newfound insight. The heavy, rapid beating of his heart were muffled by the forced stillness of his body. He watched them, unwilling as yet to commit himself to their company. To become one of the dispossessed, the lost – the remaining. Reluctance was in every line of his burnished body; and he felt keenly the weight of his skin.
He took a deep breath, and, struck out toward the nearest body on the Plain. Curiously, and for Seirath’s sake fortuitously, it was not actually a horse feeding in determined straight line before him. There was an imperceptible relaxation in the marble mask he was trying to hold up, and he grunted a greeting as he drew up to the other, just in case he hadn’t been noticed. “Excuse me,” he started, “I’m sorry to bother you, but, any chance you’ve seen a little girl?” as he spoke the words he realized they might sound extremely strange, he tried to cover the weirdness by hurrying on “She’s somewhere around 5 months, palomino, very pale. Looks nothing like me.” he added. Nice. Well done. The sarcastic tone in the back of his head was irritatingly familiar.
Of course, that wasn’t exactly true… she had never been particularly concerned with following the rules he tried to establish. It was definitely not the first time he had woken up to find her footsteps leading him onward, the faint scent of primrose in her wake.
Seirath was large enough to deter most predators, and reasonably confident he could handle one that was desperate enough to pursue the tiny golden snack. These advantages, however, really only applied when she was within earshot. And now… now there were greater dangers. Horses, groups of horses, usually meant trouble. He had noticed the difference a few days ago; the unmistakable signs of other horses, of trodden paths, of engaged borders. He had said nothing to her, but she would have smelled them, as he did, last night as they drew nearer. Seirath had been planning to skirt around the whole place. He wasn’t sure what his reluctance was, exactly, but he had not intended to make himself – or the filly – known here. Obviously she had had other plans.
He broke into an easy trot, scanning with narrowed eyes between trunks and across distant hills. He didn’t really expect to spot her, but the adrenaline kept his sharp gaze on alert. Taking no more than a minute to catch his breath, restraining his eager feet with difficulty to give his eyes ample time to turn over each stone he passed.
What was that?
He paused, hungry for any morsel, any break in the monotony of his search.
Voices.
He pushed onward.
Quite suddenly the Plains opened up ahead of him. He halted abruptly, his feet sliding a little on frosted grass. Panting, Seirath turned to take in the full scope of his surroundings; the strangers, the lush space, the relaxed atmosphere.
The day was waning, the light was soft, but still the sun made itself felt. He stood before the outstretched Plains in his silence and his glory, his unspoken dedication, his hidden motive. His stance was that of a man braced against the calamity of the next horizon; the tension in his body superseded only by the calm austerity of his features. His face betrayed skepticism at the corners of the eyes, but otherwise was consumed with the grim sobriety of a newfound insight. The heavy, rapid beating of his heart were muffled by the forced stillness of his body. He watched them, unwilling as yet to commit himself to their company. To become one of the dispossessed, the lost – the remaining. Reluctance was in every line of his burnished body; and he felt keenly the weight of his skin.
He took a deep breath, and, struck out toward the nearest body on the Plain. Curiously, and for Seirath’s sake fortuitously, it was not actually a horse feeding in determined straight line before him. There was an imperceptible relaxation in the marble mask he was trying to hold up, and he grunted a greeting as he drew up to the other, just in case he hadn’t been noticed. “Excuse me,” he started, “I’m sorry to bother you, but, any chance you’ve seen a little girl?” as he spoke the words he realized they might sound extremely strange, he tried to cover the weirdness by hurrying on “She’s somewhere around 5 months, palomino, very pale. Looks nothing like me.” he added. Nice. Well done. The sarcastic tone in the back of his head was irritatingly familiar.
Seirath - wait