__mason;
He was pleased to see that she was not offended by his blunt idiom, instead smiling at him as though she found it genuinely amusing. That was different. Mason normally had a knack for asking questions others found invasive or rude; personally, he’d never understood such reticence and sensitivity. In his eyes, if someone didn’t want to talk about something, they made it crystal-clear early on. Otherwise, as far as he was concerned, anything and everything was on the conversational table.
But the longer the moments elapsed, the more Mason began to think he wouldn’t need to bring much else to the table. He flicked his tail and twisted his ears in discomfort while his dark companion seemed to visibly strain and struggle to produce any form of sound. Not so much as a grunt or gargle passed her lips, however, and that was when the young stallion began to wonder if she was sick. Once, as a yearling, he’d had a sore throat that just hadn’t gone away – no matter how much water he drank or how many different kinds of plants he’d eaten – and towards the end of it all he’d endured a few hours where he’d lost his voice completely. Not that it had been a problem, mind you – for he’d been travelling alone at the time – but as he recalled this, Mason came to the conclusion that this mare was similarly afflicted.
It didn’t seem to concern her, though, and as he stepped aside to let her stroll past and half-turned to watch her roll contentedly in the sun-warmed grass, he felt a sudden stab of approval in his gut. With a crooked grin, the tobiano folded his legs beneath him and reclined beside her, just before a warm spring wind swept over their little islet and rustled the tendrils of his mane. Ah, contentment. “You’re all right, Nameless Girl,” he informed his companion, and snatched a few mouthfuls of grass. Silence and all, she was all right.
His parents, in the meantime, could wait.
3; EE Aa nT; felony x alexandra; mutt; 16’1 |