nocturne
Nocturne liked to think that she was more feminine looking than most men, even in silhouette. Then again, her mother hadn’t really been pretty. No, Rush had been what they call a handsome woman, the sort with a stout build—aesthetically pleasing. Dad, with his curved ears and elegant step, had loved her. Well, Nocturne liked to think that was the case.
She liked to think the world of her parents, but that might not have been the truth. Trick had been your every day, neighborhood thug. His parents had once been the most powerful in the land, especially his father. Nocturne’s grandfather had a monopoly on the Salem island for mares and their daughters—equine trafficking. Female trafficking. What the dark little filly didn’t need to know wouldn’t hurt her. None of it could hurt her now—Trick and Rush were gone. They had ridden off into the sunset, and that was probably where the illusion had ended for their children. Five children, all of them on their own now. In order it had been Anthem, Caravan, Nocturne, Earthshine and Syrinx. Four daughters and a son that would be left to hang on the wind.
The mare didn’t flinch, didn’t move as a grullo stallion made his way thundering forth. It was with a shift of the wind that he slowed, that he took notice of the fact that it was nothing more than a young girl standing on his beaches, admiring the scenery. She listened as he spoke, an odd accent filling the air between them. The mare was enthralled to the point of silence for a few moments, taking in the words before responding. ”I ‘unno, yet.” Her weight shifts, tail flicking at a lingering bug. ”Name’s Nocturne.” Polite next step is introductions… right?
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