Don't blink! Don't even blink

Satitba looked at Impa. The perlino was young. Perhaps too young to understand this difference in ideologies. The idea that mares could call the shots was a very new one. One she would have to work through in her own time. She would have to mull it over and stew on it. As Impa explained, Satitba’s mind worked. Both to keep up with the mare and her odd accent (strange how positions were relative) but also to take in the vast amount of world-shaking to her own belief system.

Though, it could hardly be called hers. It had been her mother’s. It had been every mare she had ever met. It had been every stallion who’d ever tried to court, claim, or rape her. But had it ever been hers?

Finally, there was a stop. A call to action perhaps as Impa turned and looked at Satitba. What will you do?

It hung there for a few minutes, like clouds in a still wind. The call to action, the call to change. It was an open world, but Satitba was still a child. She let her gaze fall. The offer was too big to answer at the moment.

“Ah…” she stammered, feeling the question needed a response. “Ah… dun knaw.” She looked up at Impa, resolve coursing through her. She was her own mare. She would choose her home and in her own time. “Ah ain’t ne’er heard o’ such a ding an’ Ah dunno if’ns it’s rahght fer meh. Sa, dank ya fer yer offa. Ya’ll given’ meh a lota dink about. Bu’, fer now, Ah’mma go mah own way.” She offered Impa a smile and turned to head back down the mountain.

“Nahce ta meet ya dough, Impa!” She called over her shoulder as she started back the way she had come.

//mare//3 springs//16.3hh//of the peak//perlino blanket//children//rurisk x dia//blushie//

Satitba