She had never seen blood before. If there had been anything like it at her birth, of course those memories had been jumbled up and faded away the farther she got away from that night. The stark redness of it against the soft pink of the other filly’s nose is incredible, gross, messy, fascinating, and strange all at once. She recognizes the girl, of course, as being her teacher’s daughter - though Beyza’s a little embarrassed to have forgotten the name she had been told. Perhaps it started with an L?
She moves closer, propelled by her curiosity, and visibly flinches when the scent of the blood reaches her. There’s an instinct telling her to back off, something that is rooted deep within her, but the simple fact that she should leave is why she approaches until she’s close. Without any sense of boundaries yet, Beyza lowers her head to sniff at the remains of the mangled, dead rabbit. Her white eyes are difficult to track, but they move to look at the girl - to look at the blood on her face.
Up close, she can see that the blood is focused around the girl’s mouth. As though she was attempting to eat the creature.
She thinks to ask why but that isn’t the question that comes out. “Did it taste good?” Her voice is soft but with the blunt sort of curiosity found in the young. Her head tilts when she looks back down at the rabbit, her disgust continuing to lose the fight against her curiosity.
BEYZA
something borrowed into something new |
