Quiet. Stillness.
Her blue eyes soaked up what of the tip of the peak she could see. With her ears pointed forward Dock found herself holding her breath though she wasn’t sure why. It was quite possible that down so far below the sounds could not be transmitted. It was quite possible that Dickere had heard some fallacy and chose to believe it to be true. Perhaps there was no herd where only mares ruled, like a sisterhood that did not need to be torn asunder by the politics of being owned by a stallion. Dock had never had a problem with herd life before, not when it was expected and normal, but the thought of not needing it at all…
She found herself dreaming of her, Hickere, and Dickere all alone together. Happy.
The sound of hoof beats drumming against the hard ground made the thought disappear rapidly. It was a stupid one anyways, Dock realized. Her sisters were happy with the life they had and she should be too. She shouldn’t even be standing here. But the hooves were coming closer (and therefore the approach of a stranger was drawing nearer) and Dock didn’t have time to think about what she should or should not be doing.
Snapping her dished face down from where it had been pointed toward the peak, Dock turned her skull to look toward the streak of blacks and greys, of shadows and smoke, who nearly blew by her as if she’d never been there at all. Dock’s cream tail twitched awkwardly at her hind-end, mouth opening to chew nervously on air, and she scooted back just a step even though plenty of space was between them.
“You!”
Dock’s eyes widened, her heartbeat slammed painfully in her chest.
“Are you the sort who believes in progress? Do you see the world and dare to challenge the authority that seeks to oppress us at every turn?”
Shit. She was going to have to talk. Dock never talked. Dickere always knew what to say for her but Dickere wasn’t here because Dock had left her behind. For a good span of a few seconds Dock simply stared at the mare, clearly coming across as bewildered, perhaps slightly off-balance, and most definitely some sort of brain-dead. A frown worked its way over her features as she actually thought about what she had been asked. “Uhm, no?” Her voice was small and timid. That wasn’t the answer this mare was looking for though, was it? Dock didn’t want to make her angry. “I don’t… I don’t know.” So young, so lost. Dock liked it better when she disappeared. Challenging authority… Challenging authority was a way to get you noticed. “Who’s oppressing us?” Blue eyes blinked, thoroughly lost.
of the forest
cremello [Aa ee CrCr], fifteen.one hands, half-arabian filly, two years old, played by pirate |