JACK
Jack's head jolted up when the sudden youthful voice cracked like a whiplash through the veil of silence that had fallen on the clearing. He was so tired and, it seemed, so focused on his dinner that he hadn't noticed the colt's approach; it didn't help that there wasn't a breath of wind to be had, otherwise he might at least have smelled him. Reclined there in the tall grass, with his blue eyes wide and a few blades of greenery poking out from his pink lips as he stared up at his guest, he must have been quite the comical picture.
But the colt's question hadn't had a trace of amusement in it at all; it had been quite serious, in fact: too serious for Jack's liking.
He quite obviously wasn't dead, for he wasn't sprawled out flat on his side, eyes closed and stark still. What horse could mistake someone who was sitting up, eyes open, and jaw moving as they ate, as dead? Was the boy stupid? Or was he simply poking fun at Jack's age? The idea fanned a flame of anger in the gelding's heart, and after swallowing the remnants of his mouthful, he frowned in distaste. Blasted youths these days, he thought sourly, despite the fact he hadn't seen another foal in over a year. "O' course I ain't dead; do I look dead to you?" he snapped, then regretted it instantly. It had just hit him that the boy was alone: too young to be alone, in his opinion.
Jack's pale face softened. He thought about standing in order to be polite, but knew his joints would only cause him fuss. "Where's your ma, boy? It's nearly nightfall; you should be with 'er."
18; GELDING; SABINO-WHITE; 15'2HH; GYPSY VANNER; SHIVA |