I don't want to be your ghost

[Tyrna]

Tyrna Like a shadow dancing on the edge He mirrors her movements and stretches his nose towards her for a sniff, gestures that aren't quite equine. She breaths his scent in and revels in the pine and ice that it brings to mind. It's almost like he's wearing the wrong skin. A creature in horse's clothing. When He pins his ears, Tyrna can feel her muscles tense, an unthinking reaction before a fight. She was only one for flight when she had wings.   And then he relaxes again. It feels like they are trapped in a dance that neither one knows the reason why, but the steps come as naturally as breathing. They are both here and not here, creatures of the same spirit, born of the same wild. She meets his eyes steadily and without hesitation. Something about him draws her in, but she will meet him as an equal and no less. Once she was a queen, and always an alpha, taking orders from no one but the wilds. She would not run scared with tail tucked, and neither would she bow in the face of his stoicism. When he finally breaks the silence, his voice is clipped and terse. She rolls his name around in her mind trying in vain to attach it to a memory, but none stick and she is sure she would have remembered his scent. Wouldn't she? Then he invites her to his home. He seems to have trouble forming sentences, but her ears prick forward at the mention of the forest. Immediately she is assailed with visions of running through the underbrush, branches catching at her longer fur and tangling in her horns. Leaves and needles crushed beneath soft paws and warm blood dripping from her maw. Yes, the forest was home. Though the Falls were no more and she didn't really have anywhere to go, the forest had always really been her home anyway. She doesn't particularly understand why she wants to follow him, but if he will lead her back to the woods, she will happily. Her gaze is steady, but her voice catches in her throat as she nods her assent. "I would like to see your home very much." She can almost feel the wolf bristling beneath her skin at the thought of returning to the shadows beneath the trees where she belongs. Silver dapple sabino|Mare|Andalusian Hybrid