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[Minette]

Minette has been sheltered. She doesn't remember it but the only males in her life have been gentlemen. Still, she has the feeling that her captor is not behaving as he should.  "Teasing you-? I don't-" The words tumble from her mouth, shaking. The stench of him, of sweat and adrenaline and something more, something unknown, permeates her senses. She can feel the remnant of his touch as if it were the sting of a hornet, itching and throbbing. Her mane aches where he has yanked it, but the physical pain is nothing compared to the shiver of fear as he claims her as his own. He isn't much bigger than she is, but his presence engulfs her own. She straightens, tossing her head, and forcing down the animalistic part of her brain that wants to run. She is intelligent, and she knows how the situation stands. Her exhausted legs would take her no further than the borders of this land if she were unhindered, and she doubts that this stallion is going to let her make it that far. He would only catch her, and she doesn't want to know what his response to that would be. The tired mare has the feeling he is toying with her, almost as if he is hunting. He won't always be here, she thinks. He has to sleep, or guard his land eventually. The thought strengthens her enough that she lets out an indignant whinny and snaps at the air. It's a small act of rebellion but she holds on to it fiercely. She may be his, but she isn't broken yet. "And what do I call you, sir?" she replies, low but steady, "Or am I to ring for Hades if I want you?" Her cream and gray form holds fast. She does not want him to touch her again, but Minette is learning. If she shies away, he will only follow, and the feeling of prey is an uncomfortable one. Instead, Minette holds herself gracefully, like the delicate butterfly she is.