Braylen had been patient as he waited for her to realize he only wanted to exchange breaths and not hurt her. It also made him curious as to what had made her that way; skittish. His mother had always been the strong willed type and he did not view his father as being the nervous kind either. Braylen had never been fearful of anything so far that he could remember but that was not to say in his early colthood that he hadn’t been.
“I suppose I do.” He replied, glancing down at the water that rippled lazily at the edge of his hooves. The reflection looking back at him was never as he imagined himself to look like, always a disappointment to how he felt. Pushing away the depressing thought he looks back to the ebony mare and raises his head as his ears cup forward while a mischief look sparkles in his blue eyes.
“You don’t like to run, do you?” he asked curiously, unconsciously holding his breath while he waited for her reply.
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