A sliver of moonlight reached from the sky and brushed over their bodies. So alike, the two of them - narrow, dainty if not for the muscles trimmed beneath their coats, lighter built than the stockier of the feral horse breed - dished faces, bright eyes. So pale as well… She was so pale that her coat seemed to greedily grasp the moonlight and leave it gleaming over her cream coat. He… while he was pale in some places as she (though more white rather than pearl), he was splattered in a wild array of gold, as if someone took a paintbrush covered in the hue and flicked it wildly across his body.
For a moment, they simply stood, staring at one another with a good deal of distance between them. Emotions ran rampant throughout their bodies, clear in the way their ears flicked and the muscles beneath their coats quivered, and in the way they shifted where they stood. He was the first to make a bolder move, striking the ground with his right fore-hoof and nodding his head wildly up and down. A loud snort erupted from his nostrils and he took one small, slight step toward her.
Her response? Both ears turned back and her chin lifted, a defiant glint in her gaze, her tail cracking loudly at her slender haunches.
It carried on like this for near on an hour. He made small advances toward her and she warned him when she didn’t want him any closer. Nearly an hour it took son to reach mother – after a year of abandonment between them. And yet still, when he stood close, there was no grooming or relaxation. They both stood, tense and quiet. Another thirty minutes passed.
She began moving forward and he made a wide half-circle to approach by her side. At one point he seemed to walk too close and she turned her neck, reaching out to snap in irritation at him, warning him. Immediately he veered two steps to the side and their quiet moonlit walk continued uninterrupted. The roar of the falls was in both their ears and any horses also sharing the evening in the clearing were given a wary look by the mare before she picked a spot in the far back of the clearing, closer to a cropping of trees she’d once rested in. For a moment her eyes lingered on the forest and she almost appeared sad; longing for something, or perhaps someone.
A low sigh pressed from her pink lips and she turned her head forward again, tail lying still at her haunches. The young colt-stallion snorted, lifting his head and glancing out toward the other horses nearby, watching them with the sort of curiosity only a youthful boy could have.
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