Tornados from a butterfly's wing
And then things seem to be going well. More than well, she thinks perhaps they are even hitting it off. Bitterness washed away, diluted with the cleanliness a new start promised.
Watching the children leap and sprint after each other was absorbing, and she raised her eyebrows when her son refused to be touched, making his sisters' muzzles pass through him when he should have been made It. "Play fair, Reynard!" She called out, shaking her head at their antics. Her ears flicked with subtle amusement, even as she tried to keep her face stern.
The brown colt nodded sheepishly, a moment that gave his sister the moment she needed to barrel into his rump with a victorious "You're it!"
Ama giggled and turned back to the grey woman, contentment filtering through her. "Business, yes," she repeated, and listened to the mare's suggestions. "Beating his up would be so much more straight forward though," she mused. With a roguish click of her tongue, she shrugged. "I can't lie to save my life, so if we're making him sweat, we better come up with something good."
She sighed, drama in her features as she considered the options. Really, would it be enough just for him to know they were getting along? Somehow, she figured he'd only thank his lucky stars that was the case. "So we get along better with each other than we do with him, do you think?" She mused aloud. Certainly seemed so at the moment.
...Amarine
@[Borderline]