Ruthless
She is encased in a box of naivety, it is true.. Ignorance being bliss. She is completely unaware of the somber thoughts the creamy perfectly-sculpted colt has, but she is unaware of lots of things. Unaware why the sky is blue, why grass tastes good, why their kind is considered prey and the God-made predators aren’t half as scary as the monsters Brine used to scream about in her sleep.
The monsters who don’t stop when begged to. The monsters who strip ignorance and naivety like they strip the confidence and boldness of their enemies.
So, while her newly anointed friend uses filler stories and overuses excitement in a desperate attempt to rid of darker topics, Ruthless matches his energy and carries on as if her only thought is indeed, the bountiful amount of playmates eagerly awaiting their arrival. Despite the black weight of doubt and insecurity weighing on the surface of her hindquarters, draping across like freshly fallen snow all the way up to her shoulders. An unnerving, annoying kind of weight.
As the air changed into an unfamiliar foreign scent, her stomach begins to flips in uncontrollable uncertainty. Would they like her? How long till her mother would venture to her neck of the redwoods? Would people see her as… discarded?
She casually shakes her head, ridding of such horrid thoughts.
Her eyes flicker back to Kalil, modestly appreciating his build and colour. Another child of light, with creamy hues and golden textures all molded into the amber champagne coat growingly more common in the land of Beqanna, but Ruthless has no idea of this fact. Her only form of company, mother, a deep blue tinted black with white texture tossed across her shoulders, ribs, and flank. A blue roan, Brine called it.
Until now, Ruthless had been the only golden hued horse. And here he is, well cared for and healthy; and to top it all off, somewhat handsome.
As handsome as a child can recognize another child for.
“Ocean?” Her head cocks ever so slightly to the side, a tangle of blonde hair falling sporadically across her forehead, her soft milky blaze peaking through separated strands. “I have never heard of an ocean.”