Novel
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Hello. She should say it back, she knows. A part of normal conversation. She has eavesdropped on so many she could easily tell you all the normal niceties a good horse ought repeat. But the words lock in a throat that seems to have forgotten how to do anything but caw. And that is not a sound the equine throat is meant to make.
It’s easy to forget how to be a horse.
For a moment, feathers shudder across the deep purple of her skin. The raven reasserting itself. There is comfort in familiarity. It’s easy to slip back into a skin she has worn for what must be most of her life. But she remains, skin twitching as she settles back into that nearly black color.
Eyes the color of rich earth flit across him as she peers with curiosity. Leaning closer, she stretches out her muzzle to touch at him briefly before skittering backwards. Sleaze, he says. Her head jerks up sharply as her eyes fix on him. Sleaze.
She should give her name. It is the way of things. Clearing her throat, she shifts uncomfortably. Her mouth opens, but nothing comes out. She shifts again. Shakes her head. “Novel,” she finally manages, a sharp, staccato burst of sound that startles her.
With a snort, she stretches her nose out once more, close, not quite touching. Abruptly, she snatches at a stray strand of his mane before withdrawing sharply, a ripple of cheery yellow shivering across her coat before it settles into that monotonous hue once more.
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before.