those who do not learn from history

are doomed to repeat it

It was not until we had reached the shade that I felt like continuing the communication. The bay seemed content to be quiet and walk with her head and eyes on the ground. Maybe it was a family trait? Then again, Satitba was about as chatty as I was. Perhaps, it was just the Brute and this one? If they were siblings, something odd might have happened.

She talked after she had found a comfortable position in the shade of the palm trees.

“Ah’m Dahuh,” I said. I looked at the bay. “‘Ell, yer broda ran a preddy ‘ahghd grip on dings in da Arch. ‘Sides, Ah wus skinneh an’ mos’ o’ da uddas weren’. Ah tried da keep from gedd’n any more scars.” Truth be told, they were still there. I’m fairly certain that his first claim is still there. But it’s lost it’s sting. I look at the bay. “Whad abow yerself?” I didn’t ask what I wanted to.

But maybe, just maybe, I could finally get a name for the Brute. Someone I could blame for those years of fear and abuse. And, well, it would be nice to know the name of Satitba’s father. Honestly, I’m glad I never had a name to give her. With her bull-headedness, she just might have been crazy enough to come out here and try to find him.

I can’t figure out where she got that attitude.

:.mare.:.six.:.akhal-teke.:.palomino.:.15.3hh.:.lives in the Paradise.:.mother of.:.unknown x unknown.:.Blushie.: